Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
My eyes fluttered shut at the sound of my name on his lips. I was so relieved, that all the fears and stress I’d let build up during the drive down came pouring out in a tidal wave of babbling. “I know we just met and there’s still so much about each other that we don’t know and a lot to figure out, like the fact that you live in the city and I… I don’t really exactly know where I’m going to live now that we’re selling the inn, but I’ll have money and maybe I can rent a place and—”
He brushed his lips over mine, quieting me. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against me. “Together,” he added, nuzzling my throat and kissing his way toward my collar. My skin felt like it was on fire it was so sensitive, his every touch igniting goose bumps along my arms. If we didn’t get off the street soon, I was afraid I might drag him down to the steps then and there and have my way with him.
Before I could suggest moving inside, his phone vibrated from the pavement at our feet. “Ignore it,” he said, his mouth back on mine. A few seconds later, it began vibrating again. The third time it happened, he ripped his mouth from mine with an aggravated growl and swiped it off the ground.
His eyes darkened at the name on the screen, and he answered with a curt “Now’s not the time.”
I couldn’t hear what the person on the other side said, but suddenly James frowned, the worry lines reappearing between his eyebrows. “Fuck. The gala.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I totally forgot. Hold on.” He placed his hand over the phone and glanced toward me. “I have this thing I’m supposed to go to tonight.”
I felt like an idiot. I should have expected that he might have other plans for the night. “Oh. Right. Of course,” I said, shuffling backward. “Yeah, you go on ahead and I’ll, um… figure out… something else to do I guess.”
He reached out a finger, hooking it through one of my belt loops to keep me from retreating. “I want you to come with me. As my date.” The corner of his mouth curled up into a sexy as hell smile. “As my boyfriend.”
21
James
Seeing my brownstone through Sawyer’s eyes was unexpected.
“What the hell is that?” he asked with a laugh, pointing to the vase of metal spikes on the foyer table. I ignored him and rushed him past it toward the stairs.
“Who cares? Let’s start with the bedroom. More fun than the foyer. I promise.”
When we got to the next floor, he stopped and gawped at a black-and-white photograph on the wall. “Is this… is this a…?”
It was an original Ansel Adams that Richard had given me as an anniversary gift. I’d tried getting him to take it when he left since it kind of gave me the creeps, but he’d insisted it was a gift. “Yes. But just a small one. Moving on.”
As I continued to nudge him toward the next level, he asked more questions. “Where do you keep the comfortable sofa? That thing looks like it hurts to sit on.”
“I don’t spend any time in there,” I murmured, leaning in to inhale the familiar sea salt smell of him. “I’m mostly in my office.”
He turned to me with bright eyes. “Can I see it? Your office?”
I stopped with a foot lifted on the next step. Now that Sawyer was here, I needed to calm down. We had time. Not much time, considering he needed a tux for tonight, but I didn’t need to give him the feeling I only wanted him for sex when that was the furthest thing from the truth.
“Sure, come this way,” I said, taking his hand in mine and reversing direction. When I entered my study and turned on the light switch, the room was flooded with warm light from several lamps instead of an overhead fixture. The blankets I’d been using to sleep under were thrown in a ball at the end of the old, battered leather sofa and my Drag Queen Deadpool coffee mug from Comic-Con was still sitting next to my computer from earlier that morning. “Sorry,” I said, trying to straighten up some of the clutter on my desk. “I’m not used to anyone else coming in here.”
Sawyer’s expression softened as he looked at me. “This is you, isn’t it? The real you.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, but I looked around to see what he was seeing. The built-in bookshelves were stuffed to the gills with mysteries, science fiction novels, comic books, and collectibles. There were law books and non-fiction self-help books mixed in, but there were also autographed action figures and framed photos of Conor and Wells at this year’s ICECon and Conor and me at Comic-Con several years before. The fireplace was cold and dark since it was summertime, but it still had a cozy feel to it with the old basket on the hearth that held extra blankets and the hodgepodge of half-burned candles across the mantel.