Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
And nope, I’m not crouched down over here by the door, admiring his body. Which is, uh, so obviously a ten that it makes my mouth water and turns my nipples into diamond peaks. Damn it. It’s not my fault. His naked chest is just so potently beautiful that I can’t not notice. Also, it’s about as bright red as it gets. Gleaming, glistening, and drawing my attention—hook, line, and sinker. My body is on the highest of red alerts—alright, so maybe that’s also a good way to describe his chest—and I realize I’m slowly sinking into a moment of madness, round two.
“Manscaping?” I choke out just to say something. My eyes slingshot up to his face, away from the danger zone, which is pretty much everywhere below the neck.
“I was, uh, I didn’t think body hair was attractive. I didn’t anticipate this happening, or I would have prepared before. Now it seems I’ve ruined everything.”
He’s so miserable when he says it that it makes me smile, and then I feel like a royal jerk. “I’m not laughing at you,” I tell him. “I mean…I…it is kind of funny, but that’s not why I’m smiling. I’m smiling because I think it’s adorable. I do feel sorry for you because that looks like it really hurts, but the fact that you were worried about it is sweet. As for ruining everything? It was a moment of madness anyway. It’s probably better that it didn’t happen.”
“It would have made everything more complicated,” he agrees with a sigh.
I offer my hand, but Alden just stares at it. “I’ll sign the marriage stuff. Tomorrow, if possible. I just want enough money to start over with my parents somewhere nice, where they can retire. The rest can go to charity. Or to build a library. Or both. Even scholarships or something.”
I swear I’m breathless from the stunned expression on Alden’s face, and not because his hand finally slips into mine, his massive fingers curling and grasping mine. Yeah, right, there’s no way I can pull this giant off the floor, but he makes me think I’m strong. He does most of the work, and when he’s up, I drop his hand like a hot potato. I think he gets it, but I do notice that his hand falls to his side, rests on the towel that he’s got folded around his waist, and then his fingers flex ever so slightly.
I totally get it. Mine are tingling too.
“Really?” He sounds kind of breathless. I guess it’s disbelief.
“Yeah, really. I decided this afternoon that I would like to help Scarlet. I believe she is who she says she is and that she really is doing good things. Maybe I owe it to the world for being born who I was, for carrying my father’s blood. I know I haven’t done anything bad, but he did, and maybe this is the way I can make up for it. By using his dirty money for good and giving you all the opportunity to do that in the future. To make the world a slightly better place. I think of it as cleaning up tiny oil spills, and maybe, maybe, one day, the big spills won’t look so big anymore. I think any good that anyone does for this planet right now and for all life on it can’t be a bad thing.”
He stares at me like I’m an entirely new creation, and he doesn’t know me. It’s unnerving, and I clear my throat roughly. He clears his throat, too, and drops his gaze. We stand there awkwardly for a few minutes that feel more like centuries.
“Also, just so you know, I’m not put off by body hair.” Great, yeah. Say the most embarrassing thing ever because you felt pressured to say something. That’s great. Perfect. Fantastic.
“What about bearskin rugs?”
That hits me hard and fast, and I find my grin coming just as easily. “Bearskin rugs? I hear they’re nice to lay out beside a fireplace. While they’re quite useless in Florida, I’m sure there are some parts of the world where they’d be highly appreciated.”
“Well, it was worse than that. I’m just lucky I don’t walk around outside much. Going around shirtless would have resulted in a very funny-looking tan when I shaved that pelt off.”
I giggle. “Pelt. That’s funny.”
“The drains don’t think so. My chest doesn’t think so.”
“It does look bad.” I pause to consider his predicament. “Maybe apply some olive oil if you have any? I hear it’s good for dry skin, and it won’t have any chemicals or fragrances. At least…I don’t think so. I don’t really know. It might be worth a shot.”
“I have some.” He brightens a little. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”
Mad? He’s still standing there, a half-naked, carved-out, heavily muscled god. Nope. Mad is the last thing I’d ever be.