Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
With my past, I couldn’t be with him. I didn’t want to be with anyone. My heart couldn’t bear another loss.
So, we had to stay friends.
The elevator door opened, and the man I had been thinking about stood there. My breath caught, simply looking at him.
Friend or not, he was an incredible specimen of a man.
Tall and lean, with muscles in all the right places, he was extremely sexy. Solid. His biceps were impressive, his torso taut. I was average height for a woman, but at 6’5”, he towered over me, making me feel small. The scruff he was wearing these days dusted his jaw, highlighting his lean, hawklike face. His profile was chiseled and sharp. His hair was swept high off his forehead, one dark brown lock hanging to the left. His eyes were a rich green with flecks of deep coffee in them. Set under heavy brows, they were expressive and intense. I had a thing for hands, and Egan’s were incredible. Large, with long, tapered fingers capable of building a bomb that could wipe out a block of houses in a moment or touching me with the gentlest of caresses.
His gaze met mine, and not for the first time, I glimpsed his desire. It smoldered and beckoned in his gaze. I saw something else in his stare today. Something I couldn’t place. He held out his hand, his voice low and raspy.
“Sofia,” he murmured. “Iubirea mea.”
I didn’t know what the words meant, although I had a feeling I wouldn’t be happy if I did. The way he said them was saturated in emotion. It stirred something in me I tried to ignore.
“Egan,” I replied.
I let him take my hand, refusing to admit how right it felt when his long fingers closed around mine. He drew me close, wrapping me in his arms.
“You are okay?” he asked.
I let the moment surround me the way his body was. Warmth, safety, and something else filled my chest. Something I didn’t want to name.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
I felt the press of his lips on my head, and he drew back, studying me.
“You are tired.”
“I am.”
He tugged on my hand. “Come with me.”
“Egan, I need to sleep.”
He frowned. “I know this. I have it all ready.”
I let him take me into his apartment. “Have what all ready?”
“A bath. Food. Then you sleep. I drive you to hospital after.”
I opened my mouth to object, but the aroma of whatever he was cooking stopped me. My stomach grumbled at the appetizing scent.
“I have a bathtub,” I protested weakly. It was the truth, but Egan’s was bigger. Deeper. Perfect for soaking.
“No. You are staying here until you go.” He stopped in front of me. “Please. I am begging of you.”
I tilted my head. He looked upset. His accent was thicker, his words not as precise as usual. His eyes held a wariness I wasn’t used to seeing. I recalled his phone call in the early morning hours and the anxiety I had heard in his voice. I stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “What is it, Egan? What is wrong?”
He sighed, a long, heavy exhale of air, and leaned his cheek into my hand. He covered it with his much larger one, silent for a moment, his eyes closed. It was as if he was drawing strength from my touch. Then with another exhale, he straightened, opening his eyes and meeting mine.
“All is well. I am being a friend. You are tired. I am looking after you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he laid a finger on my lips, silencing me.
“For my friend,” he stated again. “Now, come.”
I let him lead me to the bathroom, not surprised to see the tub filled, a candle lit, and a large towel waiting for me.
“Are you tracking me?” I half joked. “Is that how you knew I was home and got all this ready?”
“I sense you near,” was all he said. “You relax.”
He backed out of the room, and I stared at the closed door.
I sense you near.
I tried to repress the delicious shiver I felt at his intimate words.
I failed.
I stepped from the tub, relaxed and warm, then realized I had no clean clothes to change into. Obviously, Egan had thought of that too, and on the vanity were a T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. I hesitated a moment, then slipped them on. The shirt came down past my thighs, and the boxers were loose like a pair of shorts. Egan had seen me in a bathing suit and this covered way more, so I decided simply to go with it.
I bundled up my clothes and headed back to the living room, suddenly starved. Egan glanced up, a strange look passing over his face, then he looked back to what he was doing with a small shake of his head. He muttered something under his breath, a slight smile tugging on his lips.