Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
We peeked inside one room after the other, tiptoeing up a set of stairs near the back of the house and quietly exploring the second floor. There was lots of art. Unfortunately, none brought to mind the watercolors we’d come to recognize.
We were just leaving what seemed to be a guest bedroom when the click of shoes sounded on the back stairs. We reversed course, ducking back inside the room as the footsteps came closer and the sound of a woman humming met my ears. A housekeeper? Rory’s eyes widened, and she pointed to the closet to her right. I nodded, and we scurried to it, pushing the door that was already open a crack and then easing it shut behind us.
It was a rather small closet and so Rory and I stood pressed together as the woman entered the room we were in. I put my fingers over my lips and then leaned to the side to peer through the slats. The housekeeper, an older woman with short gray hair, continued to hum as she put fresh bedding on the bed, snapping the sheets and fluffing the pillows.
I stood upright and met Rory’s eyes, both of us staring, our lips pressed together as we hid in the dim closet, waiting for the housekeeper to leave. Her breath stalled, chest rising and falling in tandem with mine as her pulse fluttered at her throat. I wanted to place my lips there and feel that rapid pump of life just beneath her skin. My own breath stuttered, heat infusing my body, head swimming. I could smell her intoxicating scent and it wrapped around me, making me feel slightly drunk the same way it had that night. The night I’d been inside her. The night I’d kissed and tasted her. Christ, I wanted that again. My cock swelled, pushing against my jeans as I took in a lungful of her scent. Of Rory. Of the woman I wanted but couldn’t have. I almost groaned out loud, but bit it back when the housekeeper moved closer to the door and then finally, gathered her things and left the room.
We waited, breath mingling, gazes clashing. The housekeeper had left the room, but it sounded like she was doing something in the hall. Dusting, maybe…waving a feather wand over all those paintings on the wall.
We couldn’t leave and yet…this closeness, this tension was almost too much to bear. “I thought you said you were going to learn bridge,” I whispered.
She breathed out a silent laugh. “I meant to watch some YouTube videos but…” She changed positions slightly, brushing against my erection and I clenched my teeth, trying not to alert her to the fact that I was so turned on, I was woozy. “My dog walking business has exploded,” she said. Don’t say the word exploded. “I decided to go for the fake it ’til you make it approach.”
The housekeeper’s footsteps moved further away, down the hall. “Which is obviously the approach of losers, because that’s about all I did.”
I bit my lip not to laugh and she pressed hers together. And God, despite the fact that we might be caught in a man’s closet at any minute…despite the fact that my body was in a state of painful, barely controlled lust…and despite the fact that this mission was basically a failure, it was so good to be with her again. The last few days had seemed…lifeless. I’d been antsy again which had made me realize that that feeling disappeared when I was with her.
Our gazes met again, mine lowering to her lush mouth. I knew just how it tasted. I remembered the dizzying rush of pleasure when she’d wrapped her tongue around mine. She swallowed, her breath seeming to grow shallow right before she exhaled and turned her head, breaking our eye contact and making me realize that I’d been moving my face closer to hers, drawn and unable to resist the pull of her lips so close to mine. “I…I thought about the question you asked,” she whispered breathlessly. “The one about the difference between goals and dreams.”
My gaze moved over her lovely features, taking in the two high points of color on her cheeks. “What?” I murmured, feeling a burst of happiness at the knowledge that she’d thought about me while we’d been apart, and relishing the feeling of telling secrets in the dark.
She met my eyes again. “I think…dreams come from a place inside you untouched by outward influences.” She reached up and splayed her fingers over my heart. “Dreams are things you’d do even if you didn’t get paid to do them.”
Something expanded in my chest, right under the place where her palm rested, and I became highly aware of the sound of my own heart, beating loudly in my ears. I’d open my own restaurant. I wouldn’t crunch numbers or broker deals. I’d create. I’d come up with dishes and prepare meals for others. For gatherings. For celebrations. For life’s most meaningful moments. I was overwhelmed by Rory’s closeness, my defenses down, and so the vision bloomed large in my brain before I could even begin to tamp it down. That was an impossibility of course, but if I could…if I were someone different…