Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Though, maybe he didn’t need to make excuses to her. According to him, they slept in separate beds. Maybe he just came and went as he pleased, and she did the same.
I was half asleep when the bedroom door clicked open, my head lifting off the pillow enough to recognize his build. I threw back the covers, inviting him in, and smiled when I felt the warm length of him, curling up behind me.
He kissed my bare shoulder and I felt his arm tighten around my waist. Before I could tell him goodnight, I was asleep.
* * *
I dipped a strawberry slice in whipped cream and brought it to my mouth, the sweet taste mixing perfectly with the chilled mimosa. I stepped away from the tray and curled up at the end of the couch, picking up the note that had been on my bedside table and rereading it for the tenth time.
I could wake up to you every morning.
I smiled and wandered into the bedroom, picking up my phone to text him. He’d beaten me to the punch, and I opened a text from him, sent just a few minutes ago.
—Want a massage? I can have a team at your suite in fifteen minutes.
I tapped out a response.
I’m not claiming it as “my suite” just yet.
The phone rang, his name lighting up the screen. A hundred men couldn’t have stopped me from answering. “Hey.”
I could hear the chimes and cheers of the casino in the background. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I yawned in response, stretching my legs forward and examining the polish on my right big toe.
“I hated leaving you this morning.”
I smiled. “You should have woken me up.”
“You looked too peaceful. Listen, I’m about to walk into a meeting. I’ve got to go but let me send up Paul. Every woman at the spa raves about his hands.”
“You really want another man rubbing all over me?”
He lowered his voice, and I imagined him ducking his head and moving away from his staff. “You haven’t met Paul. I’m not too worried about it. Plus, I like the idea of you being naked. It’ll get me through the next hour of spreadsheets with Chinese investors.”
I eyed the clock, a sleek piece that hung next to a blood-red painting. “I better not. I need to head home soon and study a few hours before work.”
“This weekend, I’ll have the staff outfit the suite. I don’t want you trekking back and forth over things you could have there. At least until you move.”
“I’m not moving.”
He laughed, and maybe he’d heard the waver in my voice. “Okay. Whatever. It’s there if you want it.”
His voice became muffled, and I heard bits of a conversation, something about rooms and time. He came back on, and there was a new clip to his tone, a business-like edge that lost all of its playful warmth. “I’ve got to go.”
I said goodbye and ended the call, feeling detached from him, wanting a moment of before, where his voice had curled around the edges, and there’d been a smile in his tone.
I swung my legs off the couch and stood, thinking of Vegas traffic, of the taxi line and crowds of tourists. I sighed and sucked the last bit of whipped cream off my finger.
Time to get back to real life.
* * *
DARIO
This late at night, the view was all lights, a hundred tiny specks of pulsing color. He rested his weight on the railing and looked at the smaller hotel beside them. The curtains were open in some of the rooms, bits of people seen, movements recorded, shadows on balconies. The door behind him slid open and Gwen stepped through, coming to stand beside him.
“It’s good to be home.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“You don’t mean that.” He smiled to soften the words, and she laughed, pushing her thick dark hair over her shoulder. Her hair reminded him of Bell. They had the same dark coloring, the same long hair. Gwen’s, he’d handled a hundred times, knew the scent of her shampoo, the texture of its strands. Bell’s… he’d barely had a chance to grip, to pull, to appreciate.
“You’re right. I miss it already. And the horses miss you. You should go there soon. Ride BB. He needs the work.”
“How’s Nick?”
Her back stiffened a little at the cowboy’s name, but she hid it well, turning to lean back against the railing, her glass of wine brought up to her lips. “He’s good. Said to tell you hi.”
“I bet he did.” It came out wrong, as if he cared about her cowboy fuck toy, though he knew the man was more than that. Honestly, if anyone had married Gwen to save her from her father, it probably should have been that strapping stretch of masculinity and good intentions. Lord knew the man was protective enough of her.