Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
It’s a nice sentiment, but it still pisses me off.
“I don’t want to sleep yet. We still have so much to talk about,” I remind him, knowing damn well he doesn’t need my reminder. My sixth sense tells me he’s avoiding the discussion.
But Z turns and picks up another pair of white pills from the bedside table and pops them into his own mouth before downing a full glass of water of his own.
When he comes to take the towel off my head, gently patting my mess of hair, I let myself be comforted by his proximity. He works in silence, reverently drying my body next, patting me down from head to toe, letting the intimacy grow between us, chasing away my fears from moments before.
When he hands me the glass of water again, this time, I follow his lead and swallow the pain meds down.
Z pulls down the clean comforter and sheet on his bed, motioning for me to crawl in first. I hesitate.
“Only if you’re lying down too,” I finally say.
He doesn’t move for several long seconds, but finally nods, agreeing, “I’ll get a few hours.”
I crawl into the bed and let the luxury of The Whitney’s five-star bed coax me closer to sleep. As Z crawls in behind me, he spoons my naked body against his chest as he has many times. Finally, surrounded by his scent, his strength, his protection, I let myself relax enough to succumb to the exhaustion.
Just before I nod off to sleep, I whisper a quiet, “I love you.”
I don’t know if he’s awake or asleep, but it doesn’t matter. The words are the truth either way.
Chapter Twenty-one
ROWAN
When I wake to a sunshine filled room, I know without opening my eyes that Z is no longer in bed with me. I miss his warmth, and his morning hard-on. Early morning sex has become my favorite kind of wake-up call and I miss it.
I lie in bed, dozing in and out until the need to pee gets me on my feet. The sight of my hair in the bathroom mirror makes me laugh. Not only had I not combed my hair before bed, but I’d slept on it wet, leaving me with a nest today.
The first half hour of being awake, I have enough to do to keep me busy. As much as I hadn’t minded roughing it at the cabin, I don’t deny that being able to apply my lotions, serums, and a touch of make-up makes me feel more like my old self. Out in the wilderness, I didn’t really care about those things, but now that the crisis is over, I want to look my best. I used to do it for the photos, but I know today, I’m doing it so I can look sexy for Z.
By the time I’ve been awake for over two hours, my good mood is souring. Like the first day I spent alone in Z’s room, I feel stuck here… waiting… unable to communicate with the outside world… unsure if I’m supposed to leave, especially knowing that I’m back on the thirteenth floor.
Not only am I getting angry at Z’s obvious avoidance of talking about important things, but I’m hungry, and I need coffee.
The lock disengaging is my only warning before Z barges into the room. I’m happy to see him until he walks toward the safe in the corner without even giving me a glance.
“Hello, Rowan…” I say in a sing-song tone of voice, meant to mock his silence. “You look great today. I see you got dressed and put on make-up.”
He keeps me waiting while he opens his safe and puts a pile of things inside that I can’t see. When he turns around, he finally looks into my eyes, and I feel like I’m looking at a stranger. Z wasn’t even this aloof on the first day after I killed JV.
He holds something out to me as he takes a few steps closer. After he stops walking, I glance down to see an iPhone in his palm.
“It’s your new phone. I used the login info you gave me to get it programmed for you.”
As much as I’ve missed having a real phone, I couldn’t care less about it right this minute.
“Throw it on the bed. I won’t need it until after we talk.”
He surprises me by adding, “I agree,” tossing it on the bed.
My brief relief that he’s finally ready to talk about us vanishes when he starts giving me orders about what I can and cannot share with my friends and family about the last week of my life.
“Tell them that you decided to go on a last-minute vacation. If they don’t ask questions, don’t give them details. The less you say the better, but if they push, you can tell them that you were camping with a friend and staying in their cabin in the woods. Do not say it was up north. In fact, tell them it was south, and keep things as vague as possible. This will cover why you weren’t online or even answering your calls, and I find keeping things as close to the truth as possible helps keep stories straight.”