Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Her fingers tightened in mine.
I pulled her closer. “Let’s be clear . . . I don’t want Darcy. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’m in this with you.”
She bit her lip against a smile again, and I reached for her lower lip with my thumb, pulling gently to free it. “When you’re happy, I’m happy, so don’t hide it.”
“You can’t be real,” Hallie whispered, searching my face. “You’re too perfect.”
Remorse kicked me in the gut, and I pulled away. “We both know I’m not perfect. Whatever you do, don’t hold me to impossible standards. I’m not going to do that to you.”
“I know you’re not perfect.” Hallie clambered onto my lap, straddling me on the stool. My blood rushed south. Fuck, I felt like a horny teenager with this woman. “You made a mistake. People make mistakes . . . but, Chris, you’re perfect for me.”
“Okay, I’ll accept that take,” I murmured, delighted as hell about it.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” Hallie confessed against my lips.
“Me too,” I answered honestly, my arms tightening around her waist.
“Breakfast can wait, right?”
Oh yeah, it could. I launched off the stool, holding her to me as I marched toward the bedroom. “I have a feeling you might be late for work today.”
“I have a feeling I don’t care.”
My chuckle rumbled into her mouth as she kissed me like tomorrow might never happen.
TWENTY-NINE
Hallie
Just like Saturday morning, my body seemed to have an internal alarm clock that woke me up before Chris on Monday morning. Anytime I spent the night with a man, I’d awoken before him. I blinked away the sleep as soft light filtered through my bedroom curtains.
A smile prodded my lips at the sight of this man in my bed. He snuggled close to me on the pillows, and giddiness made me wriggle my toes. It was surreal to me he was here. That we’d had crazy, awesome sex last night and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. And that was after we’d gone out for dinner and drinks and I’d caught him up on my family saga. Chris had told me he was proud of me for being honest with my dad and admitted that he hadn’t been strong enough himself to have hard conversations with his father. He told me I was inspiring. And I’d wanted to dive across the restaurant table and have my wicked way with him.
Didn’t he realize he was one of the reasons I’d had the strength to be honest with my dad?
That I still hadn’t heard from my father (or my mother!) wouldn’t diminish my happiness. I wouldn’t let that fear and hurt buried beneath my happy thoughts push its way through.
I’d found something special with Chris.
Something I really deep down believed other people found, but I never would.
The whole point of waking up before him was to get ready first, but I couldn’t help but take a second to study his handsome face. “Handsome.” That felt like such an insipid word to describe Chris. He was so much more to me.
His lashes looked thicker and longer in his sleep. When he smiled or laughed, lines around his eyes crinkled sexily. But his naturally tan skin was smooth in sleep. There was stubble on his cheeks this morning, and I had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.
Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to move, only to realize I couldn’t.
Chris’s arm rested over my waist in his sleep.
Shit.
Holding my breath, I gently took his wrist in hand and slowly, slowly, slooowly—
My breath hitched as he shifted.
His eyes didn’t open.
Heart pounding, I gently rested his arm on top of the duvet and slid out of the bed.
Chris, thankfully, did not wake up as I took his T-shirt off the floor and slipped it on. I grabbed a bunch of the fabric at the neckline and sniffed it, inhaling his cologne. Biting back a giggle of girlish glee that this was not a dream, I tiptoed into my bathroom. Closing the door without fully shutting it, I made quick work of brushing my teeth and then reached for my face wash so I could start my makeup routine.
My hand hovered over the wash.
Since my very first sleepover with a boy, I’d snuck out of bed before the guy woke up. My motivation being that if my boyfriend believed for the rest of his life that I woke up looking naturally dewy and fresh-faced, it would make him happy.
People-pleasing at its finest.
Looking at my reflection, I tried not to wince. You see, I wasn’t one of those women who looked great without makeup. I looked sun-deprived and exhausted. Unless I worked up a sweat, I rarely had color in my cheeks that wasn’t manufactured, and I looked tired because I worked long hours.