Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I’m too rich to risk a burglary charge.” He chuckles as he looks around for a minute before flipping over a small, decorative turtle. Underneath is a key taped to the bottom. He grabs it, unlocks the door, and steps inside.
I hesitate, feeling uncomfortable. “Seriously, Nolan, what the hell is going on? Do you own this place?”
“No,” he says, beckoning me to follow. “Not yet anyway.”
I step into a beautiful entry foyer. Light streams in from high windows. An office with a piano to the left, a den to the right. Straight ahead, past the lovely staircase framed by oil paintings, a living room and a kitchen, all modern, filled with expensive furniture.
“Okay,” I say, stopping myself beside the island. “Explain. Now. Or I’m out of here.”
“This place is coming onto the market tomorrow,” he says, looking around, poking his head into cabinets, opening drawers. “The owners are friendly with my family, and graciously allowed me to come take a look before the listing goes live.”
“This house is for sale?”
He nods, not looking at me. “Five bedrooms. Three bathrooms. Fully redone basement. Two offices. Two living areas. Three-car garage. Huge yard. Pool, patio, everything you could want.”
“Why are we here?”
“Imagine.” He moves through the space, past a breakfast nook, lingers beside the rear sliding door. “Three kids, running around, playing chase.”
“I thought you wanted five.”
“Two of them are watching TV together in the den. Keep up.” He steps outside. I follow, uneasy. “They can swim in the summer. We can set up a hockey rink for them in the winter.”
“Seriously? Is that something you do?”
“It’s not all that hard. Money makes it easier.” He heads back inside. We move through the house, touring it slowly as he tells the story of our potential life together. “We’ll raise children here. Watch them take their first steps. Have breakfast, dinner, lunch, everything. Laugh, cry, run the gamut of life. It’s close enough to the city that I can still do my job and you can still run the donut shop, but far enough away that the kids won’t grow up like I did.”
A little thrill runs through me. “You’d want something different for them? I thought they’d be Crowleys, like you.”
“They won’t have to join the dark side of the Crowley organization. If I can avoid that, I will.” He heads upstairs and I follow, not sure if even he has the power to keep our children away. “It’s not that I’m ashamed, but I understand the dangers. Besides, we’re moving past all that, insulating ourselves more every year. Carson’s leading the charge. One day, hopefully, I won’t be anywhere near the illegal things at all.”
We look into kids’ rooms, a bathroom, a nursery. Finally, we end up in a beautiful and spacious master bedroom. He turns to me, steps forward, and pulls me tight against him at the foot of the bed.
“We could have this, if you wanted it,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my neck. “I want to give you all of this, Keely.”
“I don’t know.” The words come out strangled. I’ve never been so conflicted in my life. “This house? This place? I just don’t know.”
It’s beautiful. The house is perfect. All the amenities, all the details. I’ve never dreamed of something so lovely.
But me, living here? With Nolan, raising kids?
It’s too much. I didn’t think he’d want to save the kids from his organization, but the way he’s talking—
I’m tempted. God, I’m tempted to be with him.
“There are dozens of houses,” he murmurs. “The house doesn’t matter. I’m only showing this to you so you can start to picture what our life would be like.”
It’s so much. I start to panic, breathing fast to try to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work. He holds me tighter.
“You really want this,” I manage to say. “You really mean it?”
“I mean it.” He kisses me gently. “You want it too. I know you do.”
“I still don’t know what I want.”
His kiss grows deeper. He holds me, tightening his grip. “I’ll show you.” He pulls me toward the bed.
“Nolan,” I say, eyes widening as he sits me down and drops to his knees. “What are you—”
He pins my arms behind my back, kisses my neck. “Close your eyes. Picture waking up in a bed like this one.”
“We can’t do this here,” I hiss at him, struggling, but he doesn’t let me go.
“You and me, stretching out in this bed together. Our children come in to wake us up. It’s frustrating, but they climb under the covers, and it feels right. We cuddle them, laugh at stupid jokes, tickle them, then head down to make breakfast.”
“I don’t want to talk about my children while you’re going down on me,” I say through my teeth.
“Good point.” He shoves me back, roughly unbuttoning my jeans. “Then think about the life you and I can build. All the nights we can spend in this room. All the things I can do to you, the pleasure you can feel. Do you think I’ll get tired of it, sick of making you come? Because I promise, my lovely wife, I never will.”