Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Her soft laughter turned to a giggle. “The rest of my life isn’t that long, so I don’t know how big a compliment it is. One day? Two?” She rubbed her chin along his chest. “Stay humble, my man.”
“With you I have no choice.”
“Wedding ceremony.”
“Flowers. Especially peonies. I pictured them everywhere.”
“You did not. You’re making that up.”
“I’m not, Shylah. They were my comfort flower. My mother always wore a scent that was the real deal and smelled like peonies. I tried to find it one time, but most of the perfumes that say peony don’t smell like them at all. That’s probably why, when I worked at the nursery, I gravitated toward that section of the greenhouse. Sometimes I slept there.” He made the confession in a low voice.
Her arms slid around him, and she kissed a line of flaming little darts all the way down his chest and back up, leaving behind a trail of fire.
God, he loved her. It was that simple and that profound. He looked up at the ceiling, his woman snuggled over him, and knew, if he had to die at least he’d had her for a time. At least he knew she existed and that she was his partner in every way. She was the one for him. He wasn’t alone and never would be as long as she was alive. He didn’t kiss her because that would lead to other things and there was still a very small chance that her body could fight this thing off. He knew he was infected and didn’t want to risk increasing her exposure. A part of him knew he was kidding himself, but he had to believe she would survive and get better, even if he didn’t.
“I guess you can call me Peony,” she whispered. “If it comforts you.”
“My peony,” he emphasized. “And it’s only for us, no one else.” He liked the intimacy of having a special name for her no one else knew but the two of them. He also liked that she got the significance of the flower to him.
“I love that, Draden. You turned that horrible name to something beautiful. I like that it’s just ours.”
“I do as well.”
“So, lots of flowers. What else?”
Her voice held a drowsy note that trailed over his body like the touch of her fingers. He threaded her hair through his fist and then moved down to her nape where he began another slow massage. He knew she was tired and he wanted her to go to sleep.
“I want to watch you coming toward me. Walking up a path scattered with petals. I want to see your face when you come to me. That’s important.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” She yawned. “I’m really sleepy, Draden.”
“Then stop talking, woman, and go to sleep.”
“I love talking to you, but I’m so tired.”
He remained silent, willing her to go to sleep. He had a lot of work to get done and not very much time to do it. It didn’t take long before she was out. He waited an extra twenty minutes and then carefully slid her off of him. She woke with a sleepy protest, but he soothed her back to sleep, promising to be right back.
Draden dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, keeping his gaze on his woman. She had been unexpected. Exhilarating. She made him feel alive just when he should have been at the lowest point in his life.
She must have felt his stare because her head moved slightly, and she lifted those long lashes of hers and blinked at him several times sleepily. “You need me to get up? I can go with you. Are we on alert?”
Her words were slightly slurred. Drowsy. Sexy as hell. She definitely did it for him.
“No, baby.” He bent to press a kiss against her temple, sealing himself there. “I’m just checking things. Be right back.”
“Be safe or I’ll be upset with you.”
As threats went, it wasn’t too worrisome, especially when she looked so beautiful lying there in his bed. “I’ll be safe. Go back to sleep and don’t shoot me when I come back in.”
Her lips curved, but she didn’t even lift her lashes again, already settling back into sleep now that he’d reassured her.
The rain had stopped so he wasn’t going to get completely soaked, which, after the first drenching, he was grateful for. He slipped Shylah’s phone into his pocket and hurried out to make his way back to the remote lab.
The forest was dark, but the moon spilled a silvery light over the canopy, giving the leaves a metallic gleam. The wind had died down to more of a breeze, ruffling the leaves and needles so the trees appeared to dance, swaying to the symphony of the ever-present cicadas. With his acute hearing he could hear the rustle of rodents in the thick vegetation. He spotted an owl as it dropped down on silent wings, talons outstretched. The bird missed and pulled up, screaming its disappointment, the sound adding to the evening’s dramatic mystery.