Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
She will need to be able to keep up with a few social engagements during the year, at least. It doesn’t escape my notice that I’m already thinking about how she will be as a wife. “Comfortable, but warm. And perhaps a dress to change into for our meal.”
“An evening meal?” she asks, raising her eyebrows again.
I chuckle. “I promise it won’t be grilled cheese.”
She eats the last bite from her plate with a grin. “I wouldn’t mind if it was. That’s a good grilled cheese sandwich.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Alright. I’m taking you back now. Let’s go to the car.”
“So eager to get rid of me?” she asks, with a pout.
“I have to get rid of you,” I tease back with a devilish grin. “I have a lot of things to organize. And besides – if you stay here, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
That has the desired effect. She flushes bright red for a moment, untucking her hair from behind her ears in a motion designed to hide her face, but I can see that she is secretly pleased. Flattered.
God, what kind of world does she live in where men don’t treat her like a princess every day?
I’m going to have to change that.
Well, maybe not to the point of annoying her. But she will know how irresistible she is.
“I’d better go soon, then,” she says, looking up shyly, her eyes peeking through her lashes. “Because I might be unable to hold myself back if that taster is anything to go by.”
I bark out a laugh, and then I get up from the table because I’m going to have a hard time holding back if she keeps talking like that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alana
I stare at the ceiling in my hotel room, willing myself to close my eyes and drop off to sleep so I can get the night over with faster.
It’s still early.
I ate dinner and came straight to bed, wanting to get to my date with Finlay tomorrow as quickly as possible.
Sleep, though, isn’t coming.
I probably haven’t used up enough energy.
After our lunch, Finlay dropped me off outside the hotel, and I went to the in-house spa to swim in the pool, thinking it would burn off some energy.
After a few laps didn't take away the buzzing in my blood, I showered and took special care to make sure my body was as spotless and smooth as it could be – even if he’d basically already seen me, I still wanted to make an effort for tomorrow.
I definitely don’t want to be sitting there thinking that I wish I had shaved while he’s making me feel things like he did this morning.
And oh, what he made me feel. I recount the events in my head, my hands straying across my body to try to remember where his hands had been.
It feels like he branded his touch on my skin.
I recall every touch and every flick of his tongue. It was so overwhelming at the moment that I didn’t know how to contain myself.
I could go back there again with my eyes closed, lying on that couch, his head between her legs.
My cheeks burn again just remembering, but at the time, it hadn’t felt embarrassing at all. It felt natural, so right, instinctively trusting him that there was nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be nervous about.
He would look after me.
I grab the hotel pillow and press it against my face, trying to blot out the memory so I can try to get some sleep.
It’s so hot, the memory running through my head, again and again. I’m getting wet just thinking about it, my face heating even though there’s no one here to know I’m having these kinds of thoughts.
What is it going to be like tomorrow?
I can barely contain myself. The excitement is just too much.
Finally, somehow, sleep comes – but only to dream of him, knowing that the morning can’t come soon enough.
I can barely wait to get down to the lobby.
I set my alarm early enough to get fully ready. I just wish I hadn’t worn my best dress first so that I would still have the option now – but then, Finlay did say to dress warmly.
I pick out another long sweater and a pair of tight jeans to accentuate my curves. I’m usually self-conscious about my curves, but the fact that Finlay seems to appreciate them has me looking into the mirror in a different way.
I rush down to the lobby before they call me, ready to sit and wait for him for hours if needed. But as I reach the bottom of the stairs and emerge into the waiting area, I catch sight of him leaning against the wall in the same style of dark clothing as before.
It seems we both have the same idea about getting started early.