Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Don’t think you can make him feel as strongly for you as he does for his treasure.
But I don’t know how to explain that to Lucy. ‘He’s said he’s not seeing anyone else.’
‘Oh, that’s nice of him.’
I roll my eyes. I totally understand Lucy’s sarcasm, and even though Becker assured me he didn’t want other women, I can’t in all honesty wipe that fear from my mind.
You’re not like the other women, Eleanor Cole. You, I need to keep close. You, I want to see every day. I’m hungry for your smiles.
‘He’s opened up to me about so much, and according to his grandfather, that’s never happened before.’
‘Opened up about what?’
I’m fucking addicted to you.
I wriggle on the couch, biting my lip. ‘Lots. I’ll tell you when I see you. We need to go for a drink sometime.’
‘We do,’ she agrees. ‘This weekend?’
‘I’ll call you.’
We say our goodbyes and I rest my head back, telling myself I’ll have a quiet five minutes before I finish off cataloguing the rest of the files. Becker’s not back until later. I suspect he’s seeing his therapist, though he didn’t confirm it. My job has many different aspects to it, but as I don’t manage Becker’s calendar per se, I’m not always aware of his daily movements.
I close my eyes and try to clear my speeding mind of the thoughts swamping it, having my own little therapy session.
I can feel myself moving. The notion of swaying gently would probably rock me to sleep if I wasn’t snoozing already. My eyes blink open and adjust to the soft light surrounding me, homing in on his face close to mine. He’s looking straight ahead, unaware that I’ve woken. I’m draped across his arms as he strides through the corridor, my hands looped around his neck, my body reacting and holding on to something it loves without my mind telling it to.
‘Becker boy?’ Mrs Potts’s hushed whisper reaches my ears, and I shamelessly close my eyes again and pretend I’m asleep. I don’t want to endure another disapproving look or be caught up in another disagreement. Being asleep in Becker’s arms is the perfect way to pretend I’m not here.
I feel him gently turn towards her voice. ‘Found her in the library,’ he says softly, almost on a whisper. ‘I’ll take her up then I’ll be in my office.’
‘Okay,’ she says, without any suggestion that she thinks it might be a bad idea, which I know she does. I’ve seen Mrs Potts’s and Mr H’s silent disapproval every time they’ve found me sneaking up to Becker’s apartment, or sneaking back down in the morning. ‘Would you like me to get her pyjamas on?’
And there it is. Subtle, but it’s there. If I could see her, her eyebrows would be blending with her violet hairline.
‘I think I’ll manage,’ Becker says quietly, laughter in his tone. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll close my eyes when I undress her.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ she whispers on a hiss, and Becker starts to jig under me, chuckling. It takes everything in me not to crack a smile. ‘Becker boy, she fits in well here. Your gramps loves her. I love her.’ She pauses, and I smile like crazy on the inside, feeling warm and an intense sense of belonging. The feeling is mutual. I love them both, too. Mrs Potts sighs, almost despondently. ‘Don’t break her heart.’
My secret smile fades, and I wait with bated breath for Becker’s reply. His heart is thumping against me, strong and steady. ‘I’m going to try my hardest not to,’ he eventually says, his voice almost shaky. ‘I love having her around, too.’
‘Guess I can only ask that much of you.’
I feel Becker’s nod, before I’m jerking mildly in his arms as he turns, taking the steps to his apartment as I wonder how hard he’ll try. I bet he tries harder than hard. But Mrs Potts is right. That’s as much as any of us could ask.
The whole way up, I’m pretending to be asleep, my mind full. Becker lays me on the bed and gently pulls off my shoes, and then he reaches for the top of my trousers. This is going to be torture.
‘This is going to be torture.’ He voices my thoughts, and my lips twitch in amusement. ‘Why do you insist on making my life so difficult?’ he asks me, sounding like he expects an answer from my supposedly unconscious form. He starts to gently tug my trousers down my legs, and I fall apart on the inside when he growls under his breath. ‘Even when you’re asleep I want to fucking strangle you.’ I’m suddenly free from my trousers and having my arms lightly fed through my sleeves. ‘And ravish you.’ My thighs shudder. ‘But that would be wrong.’ He starts on the other arm, and I just about stop myself from yelling, ‘I won’t hold it against you.’