Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Has the sky outside my window always been this blue? Are my house plants really this deep green?
Alec stirs beside me and drapes an arm over my torso. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I snuggle closer to him with a contented sigh. He’s all lean muscle, and it’s a weird thought but I feel so damn safe in his arms. It’s like a cocoon.
I can stay like this forever.
As I pull back, I notice his eyes are open and searching mine. “Good morning, Alec.”
A smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Good morning, baby.”
The husky sound of his voice mixed with him calling me ‘baby’ sends fire plunging down my body, settling in my core. I distract myself by lifting a hand and running a finger down the right side of his face, lingering on the rough texture of his scars.
Alec tenses at first but eventually relaxes, and he closes his eyes.
A swell of tenderness and another unnamed emotion rises in me. In the short time that I’ve known him, it’s fairly easy to see that he’s a kind man. He was grumpy and awkward and didn’t know how to talk to me at first, and I admittedly came on too strong, but I never got the vibes that he was evil or that there was some monster lurking deep within him.
“Does it still hurt?” I ask.
He smiles softly and turns his head to kiss my palm. “No, it doesn’t anymore.”
“Will you tell me how you got it and who did it to you?”
“Someday, just not today.”
That’s good enough for me. If there’s anyone who understands the importance of finding the right time to say anything about one’s past, it’s me. It’s hard for him to share what happened because he doesn’t want to relive those difficult moments.
I won’t force him. I’ll wait until he’s ready, but that doesn’t mean I don’t already have a ton of hate reserved for whoever did that to him.
“What kind of breakfast do you usually like aside from cinnamon buns?” I ask him while taking out a box of frozen waffles from the freezer.
“I actually don’t eat breakfast. I usually have coffee and eat lunch at 11 or 12.”
He turns on the coffee machine my parents gave me when I moved. I’ve never used it because it’s a manual espresso machine, and I neither have the patience nor the inclination to learn how to pull shots like a barista. It’s easier to drop by a coffee shop.
But Alec works it so easily. I stand beside him, mesmerized at the way his back and arms flex when he tamps the freshly ground coffee. He’s wearing nothing but sweatpants—my super old and oversized sweatpants—per my request. His scars—which I now know extend to his neck, collarbone, and shoulder—are in full display. It does something to me that not only is he comfortable walking around half-naked, but he also doesn’t mind showing those scars to me.
With his hair down and still tangled from bed, he is what my every fantasy is made of. So ruggedly handsome and masculine that it’s pouring out on every pore.
I’m staring at him like a lovesick girl when he gives me an amused glance over his shoulder. “Stop staring at me like that, baby, or I’ll have you as my breakfast.”
He’s not getting an objection from me on that. But no. I refuse to be distracted because I’m hungry, and I’m not the most pleasant person when my tummy is growling. “Tempting, but we’ll have to do that later. Although I will definitely hold you on to that promise.”
He turns around to lean against the sink and grips the edge of the counter, giving me a perfect view of his washboard abs. Whatever coherent thought I had a second ago flies out the window as my mouth starts watering.
“This isn’t fair,” I grumble and place the waffles on the baking sheet before sliding it into the oven and turning the dial.
Alec shrugs and folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t fight fair.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“Come here.” His voice turns husky, and I waste no time running into his open arms and burying my face in his chest, which is really just a wall of hard muscle.
He rubs his cheek against my hair and brushes his lips on my temple. “I can get used to this.”
“Even though you’re used to living alone?”
“Yes. You’re not as annoying as my brothers. I can adjust.”
I smack his chest playfully. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I like you too.”
“But wait…” I move away and squint at him. “You say you don’t eat breakfast. But we had breakfast the other day.”
“I don’t eat breakfast … unless it’s with you.”
Okay, that sounds like something those Hallmark guys say, but damn if it doesn’t make butterflies flutter in my belly. I guess it’s because when it comes from Alec, it sounds genuine and not scripted. I know it’s not something he says to everyone all the time.