Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“I don’t have the energy to explain all that right now.”
“Explain what?”
He leans into me, forcing me back until I’m lying on the bed and he’s looming over me. “Give this to me, please,” he pleads.
“What?” I breathe, knowing I’d give him pretty much anything as his weight settles over me and his eyes bore into mine.
“Right now . . .” He brushes his lips over mine. “I just want to order food, get into bed, and watch a movie with you,” he says, his voice sounding rough and tired.
“Okay,” I agree, and he runs his nose across mine, then kisses me softly. When he leans back, I’m a little disappointed to lose his warmth, but I hide it as I sit up and wipe my hands down the tops of my thighs. I watch him run his fingers through his hair, a move that seems somewhat agitated, and I bite my lip before asking, “Was everything okay on the phone?”
“Yeah, just my partner letting me know he didn’t find anything new with our case and is heading home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s the way it goes sometimes.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, then calls in an order for our food. When he’s done, he tosses it on the bed, then reaches behind his head, catching me off guard as he takes off his shirt. He’s not overly muscular, like he’s spent too much time at the gym. He’s sculpted like a piece of ancient warrior art. When he unbuttons his jeans, I hold my breath, and I must make a noise, because his eyes come to me and he grins as he kicks them off, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers that are molded to his thighs and other parts.
“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks, going to the dresser and pulling out a pair of flannel pants he puts on quickly.
“Umm.” I try to think of one movie out of the thousands I’ve seen, but it’s difficult to think about anything with his chest and abs visible and just feet away.
“Anna, you with me?” He comes to stand in front of me, and I can’t seem to peel my eyes off his torso.
“I can’t think with you half-naked,” I confess, and he laughs. “I’m not being funny, Calvin.” I look up at him.
“Do you want me to put on a shirt?”
“I feel like that’s a trick question.” I eye his abs again, and he chuckles. “Maybe it would be for the best,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t think I can focus with you walking around like that.”
“You’re getting pink.” He touches two fingers to my cheeks, then slides them down my neck to the edge of my T-shirt. “I’ll put something on.” He steps back, and I release the breath I was holding as he pulls out a shirt from his dresser and puts it on over his head. “Better?” He turns to face me.
“Not really, but it will have to do.” I shift, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, as if it’s too tight and every nerve is waiting in anticipation for something to happen.
“How about I pick the first movie, and you pick the next one?” he suggests, going to the TV and reaching above it to grab the remote there.
“Sure.” I get up off the bed and then ask, “What side do you sleep on?”
“The right,” he answers, and I nod and walk around to the left side to get in, then rest against the headboard. He flips on the TV, pulls up a movie catalog, and clicks on John Wick. “Have you seen this?”
“No, is it good?”
“Do you like action movies?” he asks as he gets into bed next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I rest my head against his chest and my arm over his stomach.
“I like Keanu Reeves,” I say, tipping my head back to grin at him, and he shakes his head and presses play.
Thirty minutes later, as I’m bawling like a complete baby because some bad guy killed a tiny adorable puppy, Calvin presses pause, then grasps my chin and turns me to look at him.
“Are you okay to watch this?”
“Are . . .” I sniffle. “Are any more puppies going to die?”
“No.”
“Then I sh-should be okay.” I pull my shirt up and wipe the tears off my face.
“Maybe we should watch something else.”
“Is he going to kick their asses and make them pay?”
“Yes.”
“Then I need to see that,” I say, and he grins, then starts to lean in to kiss me but pulls back when the doorbell rings.
“That’s dinner. I’ll be right back.” He quickly pecks my lips, then gets out of bed. A moment later, he comes into the room with a paper bag inside of a plastic one. “Do you want some wine?”