Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Well, I once liked Brady, but now I officially hate him.”
“He’s really hate-able.”
But the funny thing is…I don’t really have very strong feelings about Brady one way or the other anymore. What I do have feelings about? Feelings I’m barely beginning to understand? They’re for the man in the cashmere sweater sharing a bedroom with me.
I let go of my sister and grab a towel and water to clean up the hot chocolate. When that’s done, I say goodnight to Charlotte and then head to my room, feeling a little unburdened but completely unsure what to expect when I open the door.
Will he be asleep on the couch, like a stubborn man? The floor? Or will he be in the shower?
When I turn the knob, I have the answer to whether my boss owns anything for lounging around in. He’s in a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, and he’s stretched out on the bed, and my mouth goes dry.
31
I’M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHALET
Fable
I guess it’s been decided—the sleeping arrangements. “And I was prepared for you to keep fighting with me,” I blurt out.
And oops. Did I accidentally let on that I’m still thinking about the way my boss tongue-fucked me on the couch in front of the Christmas tree? But at least that was better than any of the alternatives. Like can you please take off your shirt and show me if it’s true that there’s one billionaire in the world who has ripped abs? Or, can you stop being so stoic and let me return the favor because visions of your cock are dancing in my head?
He sets down the paperback he’s reading. “Would you like to keep fighting, Fable?”
He says it with amusement. With a little bit of flirt in his voice. Like an offer. Or maybe I’m just reading sex into everything.
Get a grip, girl. You’ve had sex on your mind ever since you were pretty much grinding on your boss during a practice kiss.
“No. It’s fine. Couch for me, right?” I ask breathily, my head fuzzy from the too-sexy image in front of me.
In a heartbeat, he’s out of bed. He prowls across the room over to me by the door, and in no time, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed, dropping me on it. I’m too shocked to think or speak. He looks down at me with fiery eyes. “In case it’s not clear…you’re sleeping in the bed. And I’m going to sleep right next to you, behaving like a good boss.”
Hello, bossy Wilder!
I’ve been chastened and I’m loving it. But I also kind of want to tease him, too, so he’ll talk that way to me again. “But what if I don’t behave?”
He stares at me with wild eyes. Heat flickers across his green irises. He breathes out hard through tight lips. “I guess you’ll find out,” he says, cool and in control. He’s the man in charge, and that tone sends a charge through me. One I want to feel again. One I crave.
With our gazes locked, it seems like we could break once more. We could shatter any second now and lunge at each other. He could claim my lips, pin me down, fuck me into next year. But that’s so risky. Even if we were to give in, we’d still have to make it through this wedding, then we’d have to return to work as broken-up boss and employee. Ugh. The aftermath would be messy. I don’t need another mess in my life.
I breathe out hard, push up on my elbows, and say innocently, “I’ll be good.”
He nods toward me, resolute. “You do that.” Then he sits on the edge of the bed, shifting focus, concern in his eyes. “Is everything okay with Charlotte?” He’s serious again. No more teasing in his voice.
“She figured it out,” I say with a frown. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
His brow furrows. “Why would I be mad at you for that?”
I shrug, feeling more emotional than I should be. It’s true—back when we were outlining the rules in his office, Wilder said that I could tell Charlotte if I wanted to. That he didn’t mind. But Wilder hasn’t told anyone besides his daughter. Yes, he told his mother, but I encouraged him to. I wanted him to. I’m the weak link in this situationship, the hot mess, the girl who couldn’t keep a guy. And Wilder? He’s so good at everything that he’d never blab about a fake romance, like I’m doing. “I know you said it was fine to tell her, but some people say things and don’t mean them.”
Wilder reaches for my arm, his thumb stroking my wrist. It’s tender, soothing, and it threatens to melt my bones. “Know this—I mean what I say.” He takes his time, perhaps weighing his words, sensing I need this reassurance. “I trust you. And I’ve gotten to know you. You adore your sister. You put all your focus on her. But you also don’t want to lie to someone you love that much. I understand.”