Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
My poor guy.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said gently.
“Let’s just hope it’s over,” he muttered.
I could do that with him, definitely.
“Does she spray tan?” I asked with curiosity since that didn’t seem like his gig.
He shook his head. “No clue. She didn’t when we were together.”
“She certainly came decked out,” I remarked. “Her eyeliner looked done by a professional.”
“It probably was. She never wore makeup when we were together. She didn’t have the time, and she’d sweat it off in the kitchen at the restaurant if she did.”
So that was a big play coming from her.
I’d feel badly for her if she wasn’t batshit crazy.
Now to get to the meat of it.
“You’d leave her for me?”
He shook his head again, but said, “This is one of the things I’m struggling with. I didn’t think I was that man. And as amazing as you are, it wouldn’t even occur to me if she was who she pretended to be in the beginning. Since she isn’t that person, absolutely.”
“You shouldn’t struggle with it,” I told him. “We didn’t meet while you two were together.”
“I know that, honey. But even if we did, I also know I’d end it with her so I could have you.”
Ummmmmmmmm…
That made my gooey feeling hit such an overdrive, it was a wonder I wasn’t a melted pile of Jess oozing across the floor.
“Wow,” I whispered.
His brows drew down. “I thought we understood each other.”
“Well, just to say, if by understanding each other you mean my telling you that I may have looked at black wedding dresses while researching the best way to fry a hamburger yesterday, and that doesn’t freak you way the fuck out, then yes.”
I wasn’t quite finished talking, but since he’d started stalking, I didn’t say more and instead started backing up.
“Uh…” I still didn’t finish since he said nothing and was still stalking as I retreated.
He cocked his head to the side (yes, still stalking).
“Black wedding dresses?”
I nodded. “And no DJ. Or cake cutting. Or toasts. Or…oof!”
That last was because he rushed me, dipped down like a football player about to make a tackle when he got to me, then he threw me over his shoulder.
Another oof! escaped when he dropped me to my back on his bed and a third one happened when he landed on me.
There it was.
I didn’t need him to give me an orgasm anymore. I’d just had three.
“We’re not there yet,” he said softly.
“No,” I agreed.
“When we get there, I won’t care what you wear. But you look amazing in black.”
God, this guy was the best.
His hair had fallen over his forehead, so I smoothed it back then held his head in both my hands.
“Good,” I whispered.
“You’re not gonna have The Smiths and The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees and Nine Inch Nails and My Chemical Romance and Bauhaus piped into the reception, are you?”
I was impressed by his command of goth rock.
“You forgot Joy Division,” I joked.
He grinned.
Then he kissed me.
When he broke it, he said, “Sorry you had to put up with that.”
“I’m sorry you did.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his beautiful eyes roaming my face. “That’s you.”
“What’s me?”
“You think about me.”
“Eric, baby, I hate to inform you of this, since it’s clear you dig that about me, but I’m not unusual. Most everybody would be more concerned about how you reacted to what just happened than how it affected me.”
“Jess, honey, I hate to inform you that you might be right, but there are also a lot of people who are completely self-involved.”
“I’ll give you that. But I feel the need to drive the point home that all the things you said I give to you are just normal things normal people give to people they care about. I’m not special.”
A funny look crossed his face. “You’re not special?”
I shrugged against the bed. “Not really. I’m way into you. I’m thrilled you’re way into me. And we do click in all the good ways.”
I still wasn’t done talking when he said, “Jess, you spent six months scouring Phoenix to find your brother.”
“A lot of people would do that.”
“And you teamed up with your friends to solve cases in order to stop people from being hurt, the last two nights doing that meant you dragged your ass out of bed and hung out in a cold, abandoned warehouse keeping watch on a homeless camp.”
“The first night I fell asleep through it,” I reminded him.
His lips tipped up before he said, “My point is, you’re not normal. You give a shit. You put your ass out there to make a difference. Homer doesn’t touch anything without putting a plastic bag between it and him, but you’ve touched his heart. Mary would not be in a hotel room with a bed and a thermostat she can control if it wasn’t for you. The General wouldn’t have a place waiting for him in a facility in Scottsdale if it wasn’t for you.”