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)
She nods a few times, then asks, “You didn’t fight, you mean?”
I picture my arguments with Fable in the last few weeks, the times she’s teased me, the moments she’s sparred with me, then our heated fight earlier—and the filthy, fantastic way it ended. I could fight her and fuck her every day if she were mine. “We didn’t,” I say.
“There hasn’t been anyone else?”
“Some dates. A few that turned into a little more. A couple months here, a couple months there.”
“But that was it?”
“Yes,” I say, wondering where she’s going.
“Do you not want that? Romance? Love? A partner?” She sounds hopeful. Looks it too.
Oh.
Well, it’s obvious now that that’s where she was headed, yet it’s a punch in the gut. Because I don’t want to lie to her. But I’m also starting to question everything I thought I knew about romance. I don’t have new answers, though, so I try to opt for the truth. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that I don’t know if I can trust.”
Her hopeful smile falters. “Oh. Sure.” Her brow furrows. “Do you—” But quickly she shakes her head, like she doesn’t want to go there.
“Do I trust you?” I ask impulsively, finishing her thought.
She shrugs, then waves a hand. “It’s silly. Don’t answer it.”
I don’t know how to trust. I don’t know how to trust something born from a lie. And yet, here I am trusting her with the things I tell no one—like my feelings about love. “I trust that this agreement is working out well,” I say, as diplomatically as I can.
She purses her lips, then nods, like it’s hard to stay tough. “It would be. If I wasn’t such a bed hog.”
She’s trying to make light of the situation. I know she is. And I hate going back to bed on such a somber note. “And yet there’s no place I’d rather be right now,” I say, then run a finger through her hair one more time. I’m a selfish prick, indulging. “I’ll get another blanket from the hall closet, my little dragon.”
“Good idea,” she says, smiling again, and I head to the closet, grab a fleece, and return.
As I walk back to bed, Fable’s staring at me with wide, glassy eyes.
“What is it?”
“You’re…” she begins, her words like sandpaper. “You’re only wearing boxer briefs.”
I let my lips curve into a sly grin. “But you knew that. I was lying there in bed with only boxer briefs on. I took off my shirt and shorts while you were gathering your gold.”
“I guess I didn’t really take it in when I woke up.” She licks her lips. “But I’m taking it in now.”
That look in her eyes. So much for my restraint earlier. So much for holding back.
Fuck it. Just fuck it all.
I reach the bed, standing at the edge of it, letting her take it in a little longer. “Maybe you don’t want to steal all the covers then.”
I let my words hang there. An invitation perhaps. A suggestion. But really, an incentive for her to share.
“I don’t think I do,” she says, her smile a little lusty as she lets the covers fall to her waist.
It’s like she’s lain bare before me even in her cami. All that creamy flesh on display. My bones are tight. My skin is hot. I kneel on the edge of the mattress, ready to climb over her and devour her sweet, lush mouth.
But right as I set a hand down by her face, she presses her palm to my bare chest. Her touch makes me suck in a breath. “You said you were sorry earlier. Let me say thank you,” she says.
My brow knits. “What…what do you mean?”
She nibbles on the corner of her lips as her gaze drifts down my body. “You’ve always said you like my gifts. My homemade gifts.”
“I did. And I do,” I say, wondering what she’s getting at.
She blows me the faintest kiss. “Then let me say thank you for all you’ve done for me. A proper thank you.”
And I’m connecting the dots all right. So is my cock. Still, I have to say the next thing, “You don’t have to say thank you for those things.”
Even though I really fucking want her to.
She slides her palm down my pecs, over my abs, her heated eyes never leaving mine. “But I want to, Wilder. I want to so, so much.”
I could say it’s the second so that does me in. I could say it’s the bed we’re sharing. I could even blame the romantic snow outside the windows. But I don’t. Even though, yes, it’s all of those things, but mostly it’s this—her want.
Her words.
The plea on her lips.
I can’t deny her.
I run my thumb across her top lip. “Then show me, honey. Show me how you say thank you.”