Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
He keeps folding my washing. “Don’t patronize me, Juliet.”
“I’ll fold the washing. You go and finish dinner,” I tell him.
“You’re going to put it away too?”
“Will that make you feel better?”
He nods.
I smile and kiss him softly. “Okay, I can do that.”
He exhales heavily. “I just . . .”
“I know, baby. It’s okay,” I tell him. “You just tell me what you need to feel comfortable, and I can do it.”
He nods as he realizes that he has just shown me a piece of his personality that he normally keeps hidden.
Another piece of the Henley James puzzle fits into place.
My man has OCD.
Four hours later . . .
“This show is shit,” Henley huffs.
“Everyone says it takes until episode three before you get into it.”
He exhales heavily.
After the most delicious dinner in history, we are in bed and watching episode one of Game of Thrones. Henley is on his side behind me. His naked body is snuggled up against mine; his erection is growing by the minute. “We should fuck,” he whispers in my ear before grazing it with his teeth. Goose bumps scatter up my arms.
“We just had sex for an hour in the shower,” I mutter dryly. “You could not need more.”
The man is an animal.
“I can never get enough of you.” He bites my earlobe once more. “Being inside of you is my favorite place to be.”
I smile. “It’s a personal favorite of mine too.”
His big hand kneads my breast, and my phone beeps as a message comes through.
“Who is messaging me this late?” I frown. It beeps again as another message comes through.
My phone is on his side on the bedside table. “Something must be wrong. Can you pass me my phone, please?”
He reaches over and grabs my phone, and as he stares at the screen his jaw tics in anger. His furious eyes rise to meet mine. “Why the fuck is Joel messaging you at ten p.m. on a Sunday night?”
Chapter 16
“What?” I sit up in a rush. “What do you mean?” I hold my hand out for my phone, and he slaps it into my hand and gets out of bed in a rush.
I read the message.
Hi Juliet.
Can we catch up tomorrow?
I frown.
“What does it say?” Henley snaps.
“Umm . . .” I roll my lips, unsure how to answer.
“Well?”
“He wants to catch up tomorrow.”
“The only thing he is going to be catching up with is my fist.”
“About my house, Henley. This is work related.”
“Bull fucking shit,” he snaps. “It’s ten p.m. He is hoping that you and he start chatting now in some kind of little Sunday-night sexting session.”
I roll my eyes and return to concentrating on my show.
He begins to pace with his hands on his hips. “His plan is all becoming clear now.”
“Will you get into bed?” I snap, annoyed. “I am not texting him back. He will get the message loud and clear that this is inappropriate behavior.”
“Has he texted you before at night?”
“Yes. But it’s been work related, just like this time is. It’s completely innocent.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Ugh, Henley stop. It’s Sunday night. We are supposed to be in relax mode.” I drag my hand down my face. “Get back into bed.”
He continues to pace.
“What are you worried about?”
He stays silent as he paces, and I know that he’s trying to hold his tongue.
“Henley, you have me.”
His eyes rise to meet mine.
“Nobody is going to steal me. I am yours.”
“For how long?”
His little show of insecurity reaches right into my chest, and I smile softly. “For as long as you want me to be.”
“What do you want?”
I tap the bed beside me, and he begrudgingly sits down. I take his hand in mine. “I want this. I like being here with you. I don’t want Joel, I want you.” I run my fingers through his dark hair as he looks down at me. He rolls his lips, and I know that once again he’s holding his tongue.
“Now get into bed and cuddle my back before I kick you out.”
He smirks. “I might leave of my own accord.”
I flick the blankets back. “No, you won’t.”
“I’m just horny, that’s all.”
I smile into my pillow. The fact that he said that means he’s here for other reasons. “I know.”
He climbs in behind me and takes me into his arms. “I don’t like him texting you.”
“I get it. Tomorrow I’ll tell him we are together and that it’s inappropriate to text me in any way other than about the house.”
He pulls me a little closer. “I don’t want you to use him as an interior decorator anymore.”
“Hen,” I warn. “Don’t . . .”
He stays silent.
“You have me,” I reassure him again. “I’m yours.”
Eventually he kisses my shoulder from behind, and I smile as I try to concentrate on Game of Thrones. Crisis averted.
We’re getting better at this.