Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I’m expecting her to stand there and greet them; what I’m not expecting is for her to drop her purse and the flowers and then come over, bending down to rub their faces. “Aren’t you two the cutest dogs in the world.” And then all bets are off. Lilo looks up at her, licking the side of her face, while Stitch tries to get in there.
“Okay, enough,” I say and walk into the house. “Out,” I say, and they leave her and both charge outside.
“Sorry,” I say, going to her. “Let me show you around.” Taking her room by room, I show her everything and even take her upstairs to the other two guest bedrooms, the media room, and the game room.
“My nieces and nephews would go nuts in this room,” she says, and I bring her downstairs and show her the guest room where I hope she will stay. She sees the big vase of white roses on the side table.
“This is where my mom stays when she comes down,” I say. “I wasn’t sure if you had a hotel reservation or not.”
She walks into the room and smells the flowers on the table, and then goes to sit on the bed. “I actually did book a room,” she tells me and kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs. Her toenails painted a bright pink. “I have it booked until Tuesday.”
I lean against the doorjamb, my hands clasped behind me so I don’t do anything stupid like grab her and push her down and get lost in her. “That’s almost four days.”
“Yeah,” she says. Her stomach grumbles, and she laughs. “Guess I’m hungry.”
“What do you feel like eating?” I ask her, and I’m so afraid to say or do something that will have her running. “I will order you anything you want, sweet Zara.”
She gets up now, walking toward me, and stops in front of me. Her hands go to my chest as I suck my stomach in. “What is your favorite thing to eat?” she asks me, and now it’s me who gives her a sly smile. “Food wise.” She laughs, her hands not moving off me.
“Zara,” I whisper and look at her hands on my chest. “I’m trying not to do anything that will make you run,” I tell her. “I’m trying to get you to be so comfortable here that you don’t want to go to your hotel. I’m fucking trying,” I hiss when she steps a touch closer.
“Evan,” she whispers my name, “I’m not going anywhere.” My hands reach around and hold her hips.
“I can’t kiss you right now,” I tell her honestly, and she looks almost sad. “I can’t kiss you right now because I won’t stop.” I touch her hair with my hands, wrapping it around my finger and thinking to myself it’s softer than silk. “I need to get you fed.” I look into the depths of her green eyes and see she’s watching my every move. “I need to let the dogs in, and then,” I whisper, “then I’m going to kiss you, sweet Zara.” Her eyes cloud over when I say the last part. “Then the house could fall down around us, the dogs could eat the couch, and the world could come to an end, but the only thing I’ll be doing is kissing you.”
“I’m not that hungry,” she says, and I laugh. “I can eat later.”
“Will you stay with me?” I ask her, and then the dogs bark. “In my house.”
“You promise me that you are going to kiss me?” she asks, tapping her index finger on my chest.
“Yes,” I say softly.
“Then yes,” she says, “I’ll stay with you.” She whispers the last part. “Now feed me so we can get this kissing on the road.” And just like that, I throw my head back and laugh.
Chapter Fifteen
Zara
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be kissed by Evan. I love that he doesn’t want to rush me, and I love that he almost walks on eggshells around me. But I’m here. I’m here for him and only him.
“Let’s get you fed,” he says, dropping the hair he’s twirling in his fingers. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the kitchen. I walk through his house and can honestly say it’s a total bachelor’s pad. He walks to the living room, going to a hallway and closing the gate that is there. “That’s my bedroom,” he says, and I smile.
“You didn’t show it to me,” I tease, and he walks to the back door where the dogs are barking up a storm.
“That is part two of the tours.” He laughs and walks around the counter into his kitchen. The only touch that shows he lives here is another bouquet that is pink. I mean, don’t get me wrong, everything he needs is here, but it’s not a home. There are no soft touches of things on the fridge; there is no mail tucked away on the counter. No flower on the windowsill over the sink. He walks to the side of the fridge to open a drawer and grabs a bunch of menus to bring to the counter.