Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“We need to talk. We need to talk about a lot of things,” I say quietly. “But right now, I think we should get back to our engagement party.”
He leans in and gives me the slowest, longest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life. When he pulls away, we just look at each other. Pain, sorrows, and I’m sorry’s passing through each of us. I kiss him again, another slow, soft kiss, wishing we could erase all of the bullshit and get a do-over. When we pull back, he sets his forehead against mine again. We stay like that for a long time before he speaks again.
“You fuck me up, Lyla James,” he whispers.
He pulls me into his chest and I smile against him. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe again. Loved.
CHAPTER 43
LYLA
When we walk into his apartment, he locks the door and sets the keys on the entrance table. I look at the key tray and decorations on the table — three little monkeys (see no evil, talk no evil, hear no evil).
“Did you pick anything at all in this place?” I ask.
He chuckles. “It’s not my place. My dad owns it.”
“Are you going to keep it?” I ask, watching him as he loosens his tie.
“You told me you hate it,” he says with a tiny smirk on his face, as he shrugs off his jacket.
“I really do,” I whisper, my heart pounding harder with each article of clothing he takes off.
I try not to let it show, because there are other things we need to do and we can’t get distracted. When he’s finished, he just stands there and I hold onto his forearm. His eyes dance as I grip him and reach down to take off my uncomfortable heels. He still has that expression on his face when I look up at him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says.
He searches my eyes for a moment, and my insides dance with what he doesn’t say aloud. I say it back with my own eyes. For some reason, I still can’t open my mouth to say them. Not yet. Yes, I love him. Yes, he loves me. That much is obvious, but we have a lot of ground to cover. I hold my heels in one hand and put my arms up, like a child wanting their parent to carry them. He chuckles as he lifts and cradles me in his arms. For a moment, we just look at each other, still saying nothing. He leans down and kisses me softly. It’s an emotional kiss that leaves a knot in my throat when we pull apart.
“God, Lyla,” he breathes, setting his forehead on the top of my head for a second as he carries me toward his bedroom.
When he sets me down, I take my shoes to the closet and turn around to find him taking his cufflinks off, then his black dress shoes and his belt. I let myself check him out again for a moment. It’s impossible not to. When our eyes meet, his are so dark that I know keeping our hands to ourselves is going to be difficult, but we have to. Otherwise, we won’t talk. Again.
“No sex,” I say.
His jaw drops. “What? Why?”
“Because we need to talk.” I point toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and change, then you’ll shower and change, and we’re going to sit somewhere and have an adult conversation.”
“We can shower together.” He bites his lip as he lets his heated gaze run over me.
“Lachlan Duke.”
His eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“This is serious,” I say. “Very serious, if you’re taking me back to Fairview.”
The heat in his eyes is replaced by concern, and he nods. He watches as I grab my things and head to the bathroom. I don’t have a hair cover, so I clip my hair up to keep it from getting wet. It might be an impossible feat, with the way the water shoots from all angles. I haven’t figured out how to turn on just one of the showerheads, so every time I get in here, they all turn on. It feels good, though, so I can’t complain.
I’m finishing rinsing off when a very naked, very hard Lachlan Duke steps in. I’m full-on ogling now, which seems to make him breathe faster, with the way his chest starts moving.
“I can be quick,” he says, eyes burning.
“Lach,” I say, but my voice is needy.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything else. He lifts me in his arms, I wrap my legs around him, and we crash together against the shower wall. He positions himself and we both groan deeply when he thrusts inside me. He pauses, dropping his face to my neck as the spray hits him on the back.
“I won’t let you go,” he says, voice raspy beneath my ear. “I can’t. I wouldn’t know how to.”