Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
She quickly averted her gaze and he actually growled in response to her evasion. The low, animalistic sound had her eyes snapping back up to his and there was a smoldering satisfaction in his stare when she met his eyes this time.
What the hell was going on with him this morning?
The silence stretched between them for an endless moment until, “You’re not going to ask after Luna?”
“Why?” Iris asked, alarmed. “Is she hurt?”
“She’s fine.”
Iris stared at him in confusion, not sure what to say.
“You’re always asking if she can stay with you.”
Always, as if they already had some cozy little routine in place just two days into her imprisonment.
“What would be the point?” She fought—unsuccessfully—to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “You’d just say no.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his eyes raking over her crumpled form.
“Absolutely nothing. All sunshine and roses here,” she said with a twist of her lips. She started to make a dismissive gesture with her arm, but aborted the movement halfway through. She grimaced and tucked the aching appendage close to her torso.
“You’re in pain.” He was crouched in front of her within seconds. How the hell did he move so fast? It wasn’t normal. “How bad?”
“Pretty bad,” she admitted in a miserable little voice.
“Where does it hurt the most?” His voice was neutral, unemotional but his gaze remained pinned to hers, following her eyes when she tried to evade that uncomfortable, probing molten silver stare.
“My back,” she admitted with a shuddering sigh, her eyes burning as she fought to hold back her tears.
“Right. Okay.” He dropped his hands on the sofa on either side of her hips and seemed to think for a moment before he nodded decisively. Just a fast, jerky up-down motion of his head.
“Do you have anything that can double as a swimsuit?”
“What?” His question baffled her and she stared at him like he’d grown an extra head. Was he crazy? A swimsuit? Why would she need a swimsuit? The rain had stopped during the night, but it was still gray and cold and windy out there.
“Humor me, okay?”
“I do have something,” she conceded reluctantly, thinking of the ridiculous bikini she’d packed. “Why?”
“There’s a hot tub in the natatorium.”
“The natatorium?”
“A room containing an indoor swimming pool.”
She glared at him, offended that he’d felt the need to explain.
“I know what a natatorium is, I was just surprised to learn that you had one.”
“Why? You see what it’s like in winter. And it’s great to be able get a few laps in every day, regardless of the weather. I think an indoor swimming pool is essential in a place like this.”
“Hmm… Your idea of essential and mine differ greatly.” She knew she sounded tart and judgy, but seriously, an indoor pool? Nobody truly needed an indoor pool. Still, that hot tub he’d mentioned sounded like paradise round about now, so maybe she should get off her high horse and just be grateful he had a frikking natatorium tucked away in his holiday hideaway.
He didn’t respond to her comment, merely continued to stare at her and they both simultaneously became aware of the fact that one of his long thumbs was absently stroking her thigh through the stretchy fabric of her sweatpants. Her mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he jerked his hand away as if he’d been scalded.
Meanwhile, Iris felt as if she had been scalded. She could still feel the firm stroke of that thumb against her flesh, the heat from his hand seared into her skin like a brand.
He leaped to his feet and shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets, lowering his head to glare down at her.
“Eat your breakfast and then get changed. I’ll return for you in half an hour.”
He was as good as his word. Back in exactly thirty minutes, while Iris sat waiting—after having painfully struggled into the bright pink and white string bikini in record-breaking time—on the sofa. She felt outrageously exposed, despite the warm, thick bathrobe she wore over the scandalously tiny bikini.
She was just thinking that maybe a pair of boy shorts and a black bra would be a little more conservative when he stepped back into the room.
“You ready?” he asked, eyeing her modestly covered, huddled form skeptically. She nodded wordlessly, feeling tongue-tied, nervous, and ridiculous.
A slight movement behind him—in the open door—caught her eye, and her face lit up at the sight of Luna.
“Luna, I’m so happy to see you!” The dog ambled over to her and stoically accepted Iris’s enthusiastic hug.
Shockingly, Trystan allowed the interaction without calling Luna away. He remained standing by the door, waiting with every appearance of patience.
Because of that seeming patience, Iris didn’t feel the perverse need to make him wait any longer and shakily pushed to her feet. To her surprise he moved toward her, covering the distance in a few short strides, until he was hovering right beside her, hands slightly outstretched as if to catch her if she fell.