Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I was tall and full-figured, so I’d never been with a man that much larger than me. And it was fucking amazing. I felt small and feminine in Lars’s arms, a feeling I rarely got to experience. Watching him get off was the type of thing women fantasized about. Well, I did anyway. It was raw and guttural but also sexy and intimate. He’d laced his fingers through mine that first time, pressing them into the mattress on either side of my head and crashing his lips to mine. Watching the pleasure on his handsome face had been breathtaking.
It was the type of thing a woman could get addicted to, so it was probably better that he’d left without a word. It was also kind of funny that he’d felt the need to sneak out, like I was the type of woman who might beg him to stay. I wanted to fall in love again someday, but not now. Not when my life was still so chaotic and filled with uncertainty. And certainly not with quirky, man-of-few-words Lars.
No thinking, Sheridan, I reminded myself.
Sitting in front of one of my easels, my fingers worked of their own volition, sketching out an outline of his face. I closed my eyes, letting the memory of his expressions as we’d made love shutter through my mind’s eye. I tried to capture the essence of what we’d shared on my canvas, wishing I could have him sit for me sometime. I’d probably never see him again, but I didn’t want to forget what we’d experienced together either.
My phone buzzed and I glanced down, seeing a text pop up from Vanessa.
Vanessa: You were supposed to call me when you got home. You okay? Did you have fun? Where the hell are you?
I figured she’d panic if I didn’t respond, so I texted her back.
Sheridan: Had a great time! I’m working on some sketches for the summer catalog, so I’ll call you tonight after I get some work done, okay?
Vanessa: You’d better!
I put my phone down and went back to my drawing. I wanted to get this done before the memories started to fade.
My week started with a staff meeting discussing the summer catalog, which I hadn’t worked on at all yesterday, despite what I’d told Vanessa. I knew what I wanted, though, and I’d bang out some designs tonight. My lingerie company, Sheri Lee, had grown in leaps and bounds over the last year. After my accident, I hadn’t been able to do much of anything related to modeling, so I’d started designing lingerie for women who looked like me. Women who had big breasts, big behinds, and thicker waists. My goal had been to create lingerie that made larger women feel sexy while simultaneously masking some of those problem areas that inevitably took us out of an intimate moment.
My best seller was a teddy that featured a gorgeous push-up bra with lacy material that flowed below it, all the way to your hips, so it covered a round belly, stretch marks, and other areas women often liked to de-emphasize. The material was soft but sturdy, the bra giving maximum lift while the rest of the material was sheer enough to still be sexy. It was available in ten colors and three different fabrics, and I’d made a million dollars on that product alone. The winter catalog that had just come out featured a wedding night version and preorders were through the roof.
So business was good, and I had a million more ideas, but Vanessa was urging me to slow down and not overwhelm my market. We had a great business model, and she thought expanding too fast would be a mistake, but I wanted to release a swimwear line for the summer. So my focus was to talk her—and the rest of my team—into it.
It took me most of the week, but by Friday I could breathe again. We’d come to a compromise on the swimwear line and since I was going to model a few of my favorites, we were planning a photo shoot in the Caribbean for February. It had been a long, productive few days, and I’d just sunk into my massive tub with a glass of wine when my phone rang. I always kept it with me since the accident, in case my back spasmed and I couldn’t get up, so I reached for it lazily, expecting it to be Vanessa.
Instead, Lars’s name flashed on the screen and I stared at it for a second.
Why was he calling me?
It rang four times before I finally hit the button to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Sheridan. It’s Lars.”
“Uh, hi.”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say to him because I honestly hadn’t thought I’d ever hear from him again. “But I’m kind of confused. Why are you calling?”