Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Lucy recovered quickly after her upset stomach this morning, but she went downhill for the second time today after we had pasta for dinner. It could be because her stomach can’t stop flipping with excitement like mine has been since the thrilling kiss I shared with her father, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Food intolerances shouldn’t be messed with.
“There’s no need. I have contacts.” We haven’t been alone since our kiss, so I’m delighted when Brodie nudges his head to the stairwell and asks, “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yes!”
Calm down, Henley. You’re meant to be playing hard to get since you practically threw yourself at him like a desperate harlot in the kitchen.
Brodie smirks at my girlie squawk before gesturing for me to lead the way. Our brief trek to the living room veers us past the kitchen. I can’t help but smile while recalling the way Brodie pinned me to the cabinets without a snippet of pain crossing his face. His bad arm wasn’t above his head—it was too busy groping my ass to creep higher than my neck—but I don’t think even a three-hour-long marathon would have seen him bowing out because of an injury.
Only one thing derailed my campaign to seduce him, and she’s currently snuggled into her pillow, fast asleep.
I’m wet just at the thought of how many “alone” hours Brodie and I now have.
He let slip yesterday that Lucy loves to sleep in, so I scheduled our craft and dressmaking classes for after brunch so she has no excuse to wake early.
My nipples pucker when Brodie scratches his beard. Recalling his taste and how his prickles tickled my collarbone when he ravished my neck has me fighting not to fidget. I’ve never experienced a kiss as mind-hazing as the one we shared in the kitchen. It sparked more tingles than all of Beau’s kisses combined.
Brodie ravished me.
Consumed me.
Made me an instant addict.
I am desperate for a second helping.
Regretfully, Brodie has other ideas. After gesturing for me to sit on the armchair across from the two-seater sofa I’d hoped we would play tonsil hockey on, he blurts out the last words I want to hear. “What occurred this morning can’t happen again.”
His obvious internal conflict makes the sting of his rejection not as hurtful, but it won’t stop me from asking, “Can I ask why?”
“Because you’re too young—”
“I’m twenty-two.”
He continues talking as if I never interrupted him. “And my daughter’s nanny.”
I have a rebuttal for that, but not one I can give him, so I go on the defensive instead. “Are you saying our kiss was a mistake?”
The veins in my neck stop threatening to burst when he shakes his head. “No. But it can’t happen again. I’m thirty-fucking-seven.”
“So?”
He stares at me as if I am insane.
“I’m an adult, Brodie. So if I want to fuck a thirty-seven-year-old man, I can fuck a thirty-seven-year-old man.”
His groan rumbles through my chest. “We’re not fucking. How did this go from kissing to fucking? That wasn’t even on the table. It will never be on the table.”
Ouch!
“Okay,” I murmur, too hurt to continue our conversation. “Thank you for letting me know that will never be on the table.”
His hand shoots out to grip my elbow when I attempt to skirt past him. He doesn’t look at me, but I can hear the strain in his voice when he says, “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
My eyes bounce between his as I wait for an answer.
If I were holding my breath, I would have collapsed by now.
“Henley…” Brodie groans again when I yank out of his hold and storm for the stairs.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It was just a stupid kiss.”
I replay that kiss on repeat as I lie in my room for hours on end. I haven’t been to bed this early since I was a kid, and since I’d risk my ego being beaten to within an inch of recognition for the second time tonight if I were to collect my phone from the kitchen counter, time is passing at a snail’s pace.
Ugh! I can’t believe I was so stupid to think it was something more.
I thought my numerous decisions yesterday made me bold and risky.
It all feels like a lie now.
With my mind a little clearer than it was hours ago, I crack open my bedroom door and enter the hallway. The house is quiet, eerily so.
After checking on Lucy, I head for the bathroom. A glass of wine, my Kindle, and millions of bubbles are calling me. I’ll give myself thirty minutes to recoup, and then it is back to business.
I came here with a purpose, and I can’t let anything get in the way of that.
Once I have a glass of red in my hand, my hair pulled up off my neck, and my Kindle resting on a stool next to the bath, I tiptoe to the door that enters the master suite.