Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I’ve never been more fascinated by a woman, and I can’t wait to snoop.
Half an hour later, I pull into a spot next to her and park. As soon as I open my door, she warns, “It’s messy.”
Girl speak for it’s clean enough to eat off the floors, but I left a mug in the sink. “I swear I’m not judging you, Cat.”
Pointing toward the apartment in front of us, she says, “This is me.”
I don’t like it. First floor? Really? For safety reasons alone, she should be on the second or third. The higher, the better.
She fumbles through her keys until she finds the right one. Dusting her feet off on the “You had me at meow” mat, she unlocks the door. I’m already having so many thoughts that will never leave my mouth.
Swinging the door open, she leans against it, and says, “Welcome to my humble abode.”
I step in slowly, taking in the size—not much bigger than a shoebox full of the necessities, low ceilings, a dark green couch, and the artwork that hangs above it. I’m ushered in with tender pressure on my back to make way for the door to close. Her touching me has me doing the opposite, staying right where I am to feel her warmth for as long as I can.
She drops her bag beside the door and then tosses her white coat in a hamper on the other side before leaning against it.
I turn back to take in the overflowing wooden bookcase by the sliding glass door where books are stacked high of varying heights. “You have your own library.”
“I need to cull them soon. I don’t have the room since I didn’t get the house.” The house . . . I still feel shitty for being a part, even unknowingly, of the reason she didn’t get it.
The sound of the bolt latching has me turning back. “You going to murder me or keep me as your sex toy?”
A look of horror knits her brows together. “What?”
“Bad joke about the lock.” That doesn’t seem to ease her expression. “Forget it.” I move in front of the painting, crossing my arms over my chest, and follow the colorful lines up and down, and then across to the black streak. “I like the painting.”
“I did it to save money since I had this big blank wall. It turned out better than I expected.”
“You painted this?”
“I did. Immodesty is a sin, but I’m damn proud of that painting.”
Staring at her, I’m captivated by this beauty. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” She comes to stand next to me on the far side of the coffee table.
With our attention focused on the painting again, I say, “It would look great at my place.”
She doesn’t say anything. We just stand there in the silence together.
My phone buzzing in my pocket makes me want to crush it for ruining this, and there’s no way in fucking hell I’m checking it with her around. Fortunately, it stops before I force it.
She looks at me and asks, “Want the rest of the tour?”
“Do I get the VIP treatment?”
“Of course.” She’s laughing but detours away from the kitchen and leads me straight into the bedroom. “And this is—”
“Where the magic happens?” I stop in the doorway, taking in the space and then her right along with it. The lights are out, and she doesn’t bother to turn them on, leaving the evening sun to sneak between the trees outside and the open blinds.
She sits on the end of the mattress, and says, “I was going to say this is where I sleep.”
Nodding, I move inside, feeling more comfortable than I should in her bedroom. “Ah, that makes more sense.”
“What do you mean by more sense?” She seems to know the answer already by how she rolls her eyes. Falling back with her arms wide, she releases a long breath as if she can finally breathe after the long day. “Am I ever going to live Maggie’s comments down?”
Doing what I shouldn’t, I sit next to her on the bed . . . in the dimly lit room . . . wanting so much to lie next to her. I find myself breathing easier too. The day of traveling has weighed down on me and made me drowsy. The head injury doesn’t help.
The calming colors of the bedding and walls, the scent of her swirling in the air, the beat of her heart and mine mingling between us.
She hooks a finger in one of my back belt loops, and a gentle pull has me lying down next to her. I turn to find her eyes already finding mine, my breath deepening, hers wading through the shallows. The tips of her fingers run lightly over the injury, and she shifts, coming toward me.
My lips part when hers do. I caress her cheek, my gaze locked onto her mouth. And then she kisses me on the forehead. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever felt. Her breaths are jagged, and her eyes shift away. With one hand on the bed, the other rests on her chest as if she’s keeping her heart inside.