Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“This is the dining room.” There’s a large, rustic, oval dining table that seats ten around it. There are differently upholstered chairs there, all of which kind of match but don’t really. “Living room.” That’s a huge living area with chocolate, slouchy leather couches and a big gas fireplace sitting in the middle.
Wow.
“This is the guest bedroom.” He points to it as we walk into the hallway, and I stop in my tracks.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
The whole length of the hallway is lined with black bookshelves filled with thousands of books. It’s a lot wider than a normal hallway, and it gives off the feel of a library. It even has one of those rails with a ladder going up to the top shelves.
“You do read?” I ask in surprise.
He smirks over his shoulder, grabbing my hand to lead me along. “I told you I did. I don’t lie, Lady Charlotte,” he teases. “My office.” He continues with the tour, and I peer inside to see an office with a large mahogany desk facing the door, a big high-back, black leather office chair sitting behind it.
“Laundry, gymnasium,” he says as he points to several rooms we walk by.
I peer in and see a large room with a treadmill, rowing machine and weights. A television is mounted on the wall.
I can hardly wipe the goofy smile from my face. I thought my hotel room was nice.
It has nothing on this place.
“Upstairs.” Spencer gestures as he continues to play tour guide. We all peer up to see a floating staircase that hangs out of the wall. The bannister is nothing more than a sheet of glass.
“This place is beautiful, Spence,” I tell him.
He smiles proudly and looks around. “I do love it.”
We all follow him up the stairs. “Spare rooms, bathrooms, and then at the end is my bedroom.”
We get to his room and I smile so wide that my face nearly splits in two. It’s a huge white bedroom with all different textured fabrics. There’s a king bed covered in white linen, white wingback chairs, a black and white charcoal artwork piece on the wall. The floors are a herringbone timber, too.
“Look around as much as you wish,” he says to the boys.
They walk past him and open the walk-in wardrobe doors, and then they go into the bathroom, leaving me to wrap my arms around Spencer’s waist and smile up at him.
“I like your house,” I beam.
He kisses me softly. “I like you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Wyatt roll his eyes at Anthony, and I giggle. What must they think?
“Let yourself out, boys, we won’t be needing you again tonight.”
“Okay,” Anthony says before they disappear out of the door. “See you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Spencer calls.
I would love to be a fly on the wall to see what they say when they’re in private.
“Alone at last.” Spencer smiles down at me before kissing me softly. His lips linger over mine and his tongue sweeps through my open mouth with just the right amount of force.
Dominant, caring… the man is as hot as hell.
“Well, Mr Jones.” I look around his room. “I did not expect this.”
“Expect what?”
“A house that looks like a Vogue home living shoot. You are full of surprises.”
“I’m an architect, what did you expect?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“I designed this building.”
My eyes widen. “You did?”
“Yes, and this apartment was always going to be mine.” His hands run down over my behind. “Just like you were.”
I frown up at him in question.
“You were always going to be mine, Charlotte.”
I giggle against his lips and I walk him backwards towards the bed until he stops me. “Not yet. I’m starving, woman.”
“Party pooper. What are we eating?”
“I’m cheating. I had my housekeeper pick up some Indian food for us. It’s in the fridge.”
“Sounds perfect.” He leads me back down the stairs and out into the kitchen, sitting me at one of the bench stools.
“Red or white?” he asks.
“White, please.”
I watch as he pours our wine and then hands me mine. We clink our glasses together and we smile stupidly at one other. “I like having you here,” he says.
“I like being here.” I reach up and drag him to me. We kiss and my eyes close to absorb every second of it. I really am pathetic when I’m around him.
He pulls out of our kiss. “Stop distracting me, I’m about to pass out from lack of sustenance. Do not kiss me again unless you have a defibrillator in your possession.”
I giggle. “Always so dramatic.”
He takes the Indian food out of the refrigerator and grabs a few saucepans.
“Why don’t you just microwave it?” I frown.
“You must be kidding. Have you ever had reheated Indian food that way?” He frowns.
“Many times.”
He rolls his eyes. “And here I was all this time thinking you were cultured.”