Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Jesus Lord above, thank you for making gray sweatpants for men.
I watch as his eyes scan the room, and I assume he’ll go right for Arwen in her Orlov jersey, but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to look until he finds me. I’m unable to draw a breath, given how intensely he looks at me. Like I’m a four-course meal, he licks his lips, and then they slowly curve up into a wicked grin. Before I can even register the heat between us, he is heading right for me. I freeze as he closes the distance between us, the toe of his sneakers hitting the toe of my boots. He reaches out, capturing a piece of my hair in his fingers before he holds it between us, his grin going feral.
Holy moly, God above.
His eyes move to mine, and then he lets go of my hair, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. With his eyes consuming mine, not letting me look away even if I wanted to, he turns his hat backward and then leans in toward me.
I almost think he’ll kiss me—shit, do I want him to kiss me?
Aw fuck, I do.
But instead, he presses his lips to my cheek, and my eyes fall shut at the mere closeness of him. His fresh soap smell, mixed with a spicy cologne and then everything Thatcher, hits me like a bucket of pucks. God, he smells good. A heartbeat later, his lips move against my heated flesh as he whispers, “There you are.”
And with that, I’m surprised I don’t faint like my mother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ilove any look Audrina goes for. She’s always been the kind of girl that looks good with any hair color. When we were younger, she put bright purple streaks through her hair. She even went pure blond once, and then a soft pink our junior year. No matter what she does to her hair, I want her, but nothing can touch the carnal need I feel when her hair is that eye-catching blond with a slight blush to it. The color goes so well with the flush of her face and also makes her freckles seem darker along her nose and cheeks. Her eyes glow as her hair frames her round face. She has such a deer-in-headlights look to her with those big doe eyes of hazel perfection, and I’m a goner for her.
I want to kiss her.
Devour her.
Never let her go again.
Instead, with the restraint of a monk, I only press my lips to her cheek.
The way she draws in a sharp intake of breath, how her breasts move against my chest with each inhale, has me going wild. She smells of rosemary and mint, my absolute favorite, and I feel the need to nuzzle my nose in her hair just to intoxicate myself with her scent.
I can’t, though, because I know we’re in a room full of gossip-hungry family.
My eyes slowly shut, and I have no intention of putting space between us. As much as it feels like it’s only us two, I know it’s not. She knows it’s not. And soon, her body gets tense. To my surprise, she moves a hand up, pressing it into my chest. She doesn’t push, though, just holds it there. When her eyes widen, I know she feels my heart beating out of control.
For her.
Only for her.
Without thinking, I cover her hand with mine, and I grin at the little sigh that leaves her lips. Needing to see all of her, I pull back, meeting her dilated eyes as she looks up at me, her pillowy lips parted.
“Hi,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Hi,” she says back tentatively, her eyes searching mine.
“How was your day?”
She swallows. “Okay. Busy. Yours?”
Her voice is breathy, and that pleases me more than I expect it to. “Better now.” That flush burns along her cheeks as I curl her hair around my finger again. “I love your hair.”
Her lips curve a bit, but not in a full, breathtaking Audrina way. “Thank you.”
I need to keep her talking, and thankfully, Ingrid has my back. “Okay, everyone out,” she says, and I’m sure she signs too. Audrina looks at our family, but my gaze stays on her. Her profile is stunning, her jaw so sharp that I want to trace it with my tongue. Before I can act on such thoughts, I watch as her flush burns brighter, but then she’s scrunching her face. She pushes into my chest. “No, wait. Arwen wants Thatcher.”
Fuck me. I didn’t even see her. I turn just as my dad sets her on her feet. She starts for me, her eyes wide and full of excitement, but that’s not what has me clutching my chest. No, my baby is wearing my sweater. My number. My name. I crouch down as she reaches me, wrapping her small arms around my neck with gusto. I know she can’t hear me, but still, I breathe against her hair, “Malyshonuk.”