Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Hugh regarded me steadily, but his brown eyes were so soft and warm they made me yearn for something I couldn’t even identify. And that yearning made me incredibly uncomfortable. Almost, just a little bit, terrified.
“Enough of that.” I forced a yawn. “Good lord, talking drivel is tiring.”
“Uh-huh.” Hugh tugged gently on my hair. “It’s definitely not that you’ve crossed twelve time zones in the last week to get to this wedding, right? You must be exhausted.”
I was tired, and I might have been truly exhausted… if I wasn’t so completely turned on by Hugh’s nearness and the all-encompassing kindness and security that emanated from his very being.
“Yes,” I said, leaning forward to kiss his lips. “So tired.” His tongue tasted of sweet white wine, and I deepened the kiss to chase it. We made out for a while, for the simple joy of kissing, but before long, his little moans and whimpers fired my blood again, and I decided this time I wanted his cock in my mouth and the scent of him in my nose.
I kissed hungrily down his body, my mouth finding him hard and ready. His fingers gripped my hair and held on while I teased and sucked and stroked him until the noises he made filled the room around us.
“Oscar, fuck. Fuck, please. God, just like that. Fuck.” The deep sounds of his desire tightened my gut until I was humping the bed between his legs like a dog. I couldn’t remember feeling this out of control before, like he could say something that would make me change everything I’d ever believed in just to give him one solid moment of happiness.
As soon as he spilled hot and bitter into my mouth, I lunged back up to kiss him on the mouth again, taking myself in hand and stroking rapidly until my own release stuttered between us through desperate breaths and grunts. It wasn’t pretty. It was raw and real, messy and a little bit unhinged.
And so fucking complicated.
My brain began to whirr as I rushed through cleaning the two of us up, with any number of unhelpful devil’s advocates suggesting possible ways I could work things out with Hugh on a more-than-temporary basis.
It was hopeless, of course. I knew better than to try yet again. Wasn’t the definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? And what would it mean for our friendship if we tried and failed? I’d meant what I’d told him: I didn’t want Hugh to settle for less than true love, which was the one thing that, despite all my billions, I absolutely could not give him, even if I wanted to.
Hugh’s steady presence against my back eventually calmed me down, but I still couldn’t sleep. I tried to slow my breathing.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked softly.
The last thing I wanted was more talk when I was still busy mulling over our last discussion.
Put your heart out there. Right.
I mentally glared at Boone, all the way out in Wyoming. Of all the terrible advice that anyone had ever given. Trying to explain how to fall in love was like trying to explain the mechanics of whistling to someone who’d never accomplished it before. It was a whole lot of effort for a little bit of hot air.
“Nothing to talk about,” I lied. “It’s the time zone thing, mostly.”
Hugh’s warm hand ran across my shoulder and down my back. “Are you worried about Frank? Is he still sick from the raspberries?”
I shook my head, secretly enjoying the fact he’d remembered my baby had overindulged in his favorite treat before the Macau trip. “Not really. Dr. Charlie says he’s doing fine. I think the lazybones was malingering so he wouldn’t have to make an appearance at the wedding. But I’ll be happy to see him Sunday night.”
It occurred to me, though, that I’d have to say goodbye to Hugh before reuniting with Frank. The thought depressed me, so I tried to change the subject. To force myself to stop thinking about impossibilities.
“I’m also debating whether I should confess that I never watched the last episode of Queen Charlotte,” I blurted. “Lesya literally called in sick to work because she cried too hard, and I was appalled.”
For a moment, Hugh was silent, and the tide of awkwardness rolled over us again. If I weren’t so comfortable, I would have gotten up, made an excuse, and fled into the night to avoid drowning us both. But then Hugh’s strong arm came around me pulling me against his chest, while his other hand sifted through my hair.
“Well, that’s easy to fix,” he murmured. He began talking, spinning out a story for me until my eyes shut and my thoughts began to float, a sense of peace washing over me for the first time in months.