Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Or like when Theo didn’t believe me that my favorite movie was Pulp Fiction until he put it on one night and laughed uncontrollably as I quoted it word for word, even acting out the action scenes with air guns. I then found out that his favorite movie was Casablanca, so we watched that next, and ended the night with him between my legs whispering, “Of all the yachts, in all the seas, in all the world, she walks onto mine.”
I even got a taste of Theo’s adrenaline-addicted side when he booked a parasailing trip for us. Whereas I was toying with the thin line between this is exciting and I’m going to have a heart attack with my legs dangling below me and the kite-like contraption carrying us over the water along the Grecian coast, Theo was hooting and hollering and throwing his hands up in the air, demanding the tour guide dip us in the water over and over.
“We’re like shark bait!” I screamed over the wind.
“We’re alive!” Theo argued back.
He tried to get me to go skydiving after that, to which I responded with a hearty laugh and an offer to watch him from the safety of land, thank you very much.
I loved peeling back the layers that made Theo Whitman who he was, like the nickname ‘Cap’ his friends had given him in sailing club because his last name was Whitman, just like the poet who wrote O Captain, My Captain! Or like how he was an uneasy, grumpy version of himself if he didn’t get out for his morning row, or at the very least get a strenuous workout in before the sun came up. And Theo could spend entire nights awake with me, drawing circles on my skin while I told him about my studies in college and my childhood memories growing up in Colorado, like how Mom and Dad had taken Juniper and me to the Telluride Bluegrass Festival every summer since we were born.
My head fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, and I became addicted to being the first thing Theo thought of in the morning and the last thing he saw at night. No matter the exotic things we saw on shore, or the intriguing guests he brought aboard, nothing compared to staring into his eyes as we fought sleep — all in the name of talking until our throats were hoarse and our eyes could no longer stay open.
I was in the calmest, most content state of being.
Until the night we anchored off the shore of Santorini.
“Don’t tease, okay? I’ve only been with one man before you,” I reminded Theo as he fought back laughter. “I didn’t know a penis could be pretty.”
Theo barked out another loud laugh, curling over like his stomach hurt. I smacked his chest, but laughed, too, simply because I loved the way Theo looked when he was filled with so much joy.
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands before he pulled me back into his chest. It was after midnight, and we were curled up in the sheets, trying to recover from the three rounds of fun that had kept us in the bedroom since dinner. “But come on, you’ve got to let me indulge in at least a little jest over the fact that your ex-boyfriend and the asshole little thief I kicked off my boat has a funny-looking dick.”
I pinched his side. “I didn’t say funny-looking!”
“You didn’t have to.”
I rolled my eyes, but settled into his chest with a smile. “And what about you, mister? I’m sure you’ve seen some odd-shaped boobies or something. What was your sex life like before me?”
I asked the question casually, easily, like we could talk about it just as candidly as we did mine. It didn’t occur to me until the long silence stretched between us that maybe I was asking a question I didn’t actually want the answer to.
“Does it matter?” Theo asked after a moment.
His deflection made my stomach roll, my smile fading.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Humor me. You know all about my past.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I’m eleven years older than you. I’ve had a lot more time to…”
“Sow your wild oats?”
Theo chuckled. “Something like that.”
I traced shapes on his bare chest, fingers brushing the slight hair that dusted his skin as the walls of my throat closed in. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
“My lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to long-term or serious engagements,” Theo answered. “With anyone — whether friendly or romantic.”
“Oh…” I said, and I couldn’t ignore the way my heart thumped to life in my chest, hammering in my ears as those words sank in. “So… you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I guess it depends what that title means to you.” Theo shrugged, and I was thankful I was staring at his chest and not into his eyes when he said, “I’ve been with many women, some who I could picture a future with, sure. But in the end, they had their own lives and I had mine. The most serious I ever got was seeing them when I was back in their country, or state or city, depending.” He paused. “I guess you could say I have international affairs.”