Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Before she could swing her legs over, he was there, filling the space and making her thoughts tumble to where she’d been trying to keep them from going.
“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”
Hope cleared her throat. “Tired is all.” She made sure to keep her face angled from him. She’d just woken up and didn’t need to kill him with nap breath, if that was even a thing.
“And the headache?”
He shifted so he was looking in her eyes again. Once more, she averted her head. “Better now.”
“Woman, you’re driving me crazy. Why aren’t you looking at me?” Low and growly, all his voice did was warm her.
She rolled her lower lip in her teeth and lifted her gaze to his. He scowled. Hope lifted the top quilt over her mouth to keep her breath from him. “Better?”
His lips quirked. Instead of backing away, like she figured he’d do, he leaned closer. “Are you worried about your breath, Flykra?”
As sure as she knew there were feet of snow on the ground outside, she knew her face was heating up. Hopefully, he couldn’t tell.
“I spent years in locker rooms with guys. We’re not exactly the cleanest creatures. Your breath, even with you having just woken up and drinking some tea, isn’t going to offend me.”
She licked her lips, still behind the blanket, but she swore he tracked the movement with those incredible brown eyes. Hope wasn’t sure how to handle this man, not that she was used to handling any man, but Mitchell Anderson was a different breed all the way around.
That sleepy, hooded, sexy look of his did things to her insides and made her want to ask him to do things to her, insides included. It wasn’t fair. Honestly, he probably looked at all women that way, even ones like her that didn’t fit the mold of societal beauty.
“Talk to me, Flykra.” He settled the back of his hand on her head, near but not touching the healing injury there. “Or I get to make up the conversation between us.”
“Will you do voices?” The question slipped out before she could contain the words.
There was the smile. The one that turned her insides to mush. She hadn’t seen much of it, but man, it was a powerful weapon when he wielded it.
“I can do all kinds of voices, if that’s what you want.” He sobered. “Are you okay, really? I don’t want you overdoing it.”
He grasped the edge of the blanket and drew it away, exposing her knee. She gasped, dropping the quilt from her mouth. “I could have been naked under here.” It didn’t matter she’d covered up after he’d seen she was fully clothed as he walked over to the bed.
Heat exploded in his gaze as he ran it over her body. “We are sharing a bed. You don’t sleep naked at night. Although, if you wanted to, I would not complain.”
She ignored that and stared at the top of his head while he pushed up the pants leg of his sweats, exposing her knee. Again, the touch was impersonal, but he was gentle and thorough. Which she appreciated.
“I should sleep by the fire.”
He froze for a moment before continuing to poke and prod her leg, focusing on her knee. “Something happen that is making you give up a perfectly decent bed?” The man didn’t even look in her direction, keeping his eyes on what he was doing.
Her gut clenched and his touch changed subtly, echoing through her like a bass drum. “I don’t think you want people to know that we shared a room. I’m sure I’m not the right image for you to have next to you, much less in your bed.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
His hand tightened on her thigh before he looked up at her. “I mind.” His gaze was more intense than she’d ever seen it, a feral fire tingeing the edges even as it burned through her. Marked her.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
He slipped his left hand under her thigh and lifted. As he manipulated her knee by moving her calf with the right, she whimpered as more pain shot through her. Mitchell grunted and stopped moving his hand.
“Why doesn’t it make sense?”
She didn’t respond immediately, again lost in staring at his hair which she knew to be soft and silken. He continued to touch her leg, even though he wasn’t moving it now, in fact, he’d gone predator-still and she took a deep breath, only to find his direct gaze on her.
Her thoughts tumbled away. His stare locked on her and she, quite honestly, could hardly remember her name.
He tightened his grip on the underside of her thigh. A part of her body she tried to hide from men—dimples and all. Mitchell didn’t seem perturbed by them at all. The opposite really. His fingers continued to move like he was caressing her.