Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to—”
“Bria,” I snarl firmly.
I know what she was going to say.
I don’t want to choose anything expensive.
It’s crazy to think that not too long ago – not too long ago at all – my concern was that she’d want me for my money. Now I can’t even imagine worrying about something like that, not when my desire to give her the future she deserves is so overwhelming, so all-consuming, encompassing every part of me.
“You don’t have to worry about the price of anything. Ever again. I know what I said, about having always worried about gold diggers. But that doesn’t apply to you. The only thing I care about is you being happy. So order whatever you want.”
“Well, what I want is a big juicy steak with a side of fries. I’m starving.”
“You just read my mind,” I tell her. “And I like the idea of you eating meat, keeping your body nice and curvy and strong for when your womb is swollen with my seed.”
She smiles, but I detect something in her eyes, a passing feeling.
Its the perpetual war raging inside of her, the shyness battling the sassiness.
I know she’s probably thinking about the F-word, the word I told her to never use again, and I’m glad when the look passes and a full smile replaces it.
Good.
She never has to worry about her body, her shape, or anything.
She’s perfect just the way she is.
And I’ll never stop feeling this way, not for as long as I live.
Chapter Seventeen
Bria
“So, why costume design?” Braden asks as I cut into my steak.
I almost laugh at the question, because it seems so crazy that we can want each other – need each other – and yet he doesn’t know this basic fact about me.
But then I have to remind myself that we’re not like regular couples.
Heck, even the word couple sends tingles coursing through my body, tempting and hot.
Is that what we are?
We haven’t made it explicit yet, but it seems like the only word that fits.
I look up to find him watching me intently, staring in that way of his, in a way I’ve never been looked at before… by anyone but him.
It’s like he’s ready to listen to me for the next several hours if that’s how long I decide to speak, like he’d never stop listening.
“It’s weird,” I murmur. “I know lots of other people have these awesome origin stories. I was reading up on Maximillia’s the other night, actually, about how she used to ride her bike from thrift shop to thrift shop so she could make these beautiful outlandish outfits. But I’ve never had anything like that. I’ve just always…”
He doesn’t say anything when I trail off, just stares at me with complete patience, making me feel like I don’t have to rush to explain my feelings.
“It was just this instinctual thing. When I watched movies, I always found myself looking at the clothes more than anything else. It doesn’t even make any sense because it’s not like I’m a crazy fashion-conscious person. But the idea of bringing a character to life through their clothes just really appealed to me. Maybe it’s the silly dream that people can change who they are through their clothes, you know? Maybe it’s the idea that transformation can be so simple. I don’t know.”
“Instinctual,” Braden says, nodding. “That sounds about right. It seems we’re both very instinctual people.”
“Especially when it comes to each other.”
I say it quickly and then stuff my mouth full of steak, meaning I don’t have to focus on the effect my words have had. Or the lack of effect. Or anything about them, really.
Saying stuff like this shouldn’t still fill me with this aching feeling, this feeling that he’s going to laugh at me or mock me for my forwardness. But it’s not a switch I can just flick off, either.
“Everything about us is instinct,” he agrees with a gruff tenor in his voice, as though he doesn’t want me to have to be embarrassed or nervous all the freaking time. “Every little thing.”
“Was it the same for you, with acting?” I ask. “Was it instinct?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I always wanted to be an actor. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be an actor.”
“Maybe it came from wanting to be someone else because you didn’t want to…”
“Be stuck in a house with two alcoholics?” he finishes for me, and I nod. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. There’s something to that, disappearing into someone else. Before I met you, Bria, I never wanted to be myself. Don’t get me wrong. I have a great life, all the luxuries a man could ask for. But all I cared about was my work. You’ve changed that.”
“Really?” I murmur.
“Really,” he says firmly. “Before I met you, all I wanted was to be somebody else. Now I think it’s time I tried being myself for a change.”