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)
Slowly the room’s sounds faded. The crackle and pop of the fire became white noise around him as he allowed thoughts to slide from him. It all faded, leaving him with the peacefulness he’d craved.
Time didn’t register until he came to from his deep meditation and realized thirty minutes had slipped by. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders seconds before he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. So much for going right back downstairs.
Reaching his hands up over his head, he stretched. First to the left, then right. Another roll of his shoulders and he could claim to feel marginally human now, at least one in control of his emotions. A low moan escaped as Hope came to mind, but he swallowed it and jumped up.
If his best friends were here, he’d joke with them, but they weren’t and he still didn’t have any service on his cell phone, so reaching out wasn’t even an option. Honestly, he could really use a talk with them but that wasn’t happening…
Opening the door, he stepped into the cold hall and once he secured the door behind him, headed down the stairs. Halfway down, he paused at the music and laughter which came from the main room.
Day one here, he’d turned around and gone back up. Now, he wanted to be part of the group. Sit beside Hope and allow himself to be in her sphere of happiness. He took the remaining steps a few at a time and strode to the doorway.
There he paused. Scanning the room, he noticed all the people gathered in front of the fire, not looking the least bit put out by their current snowbound situation. Hope, Sonya, and Alistair all had something on their heads and he moved closer, wanting to see.
Hope still wore his sweatshirt and he didn’t even bother hiding his smile. Any lingering cold he’d been feeling was banished the moment she peered at him over her shoulder, giving him a wide grin. A bent paper antenna fell forward and bobbled in front of her left eye.
“Joining us?” She reached up and flicked it out of the way.
Her entire expression was open and hopeful. Face shining, she gently bit her lower lip and he had to gulp back his resulting moan. He dropped his gaze to her lips, smirking when she parted them slightly. In his mind, she whimpered or moaned his name. This lighthearted feeling was new to him but he’d come to realize that being around Hope was like a constant adrenaline spike.
And he was addicted to that juice.
“Of course.” He walked up to her and tugged one of her curls, taking a gander at the paper crown with…space antennae on it before walking around the chair she was in to claim a spot next to her. It wasn’t even a spot made for two. More like a loveseat, but he completely approved of how she inched over, giving him space without him having to nudge. As if she simply accepted the fact that he was going to sit next to her.
“What are we doing?” There had to be a story behind her crown and he wanted to know what it was.
“Karaoke.”
His gut sank. “Seriously?”
She nodded her head without looking at him. Hope was leaning away from him over the arm of the couch, looking at something with Wendy. And while he approved because he had a great view of her ass, he wanted her closer.
Mitchell tugged on her top until she came toward him with a huff. Hell, even that could—and did—set off a tingle in his limbs.
“What?” She ran her gaze over his face, some of the lightheartedness leaving as a furrow appeared. “Are you feeling okay? Warm enough?”
Not giving a damn about how this looked to everyone else, he leaned in close so their foreheads touched. “Going to have to cuddle tonight. No pillow wall.”
Her lips twitched. “You scale it anyway.”
He moved so his lips were by her ear. “And will always do so.” When he pulled back, he noticed they were the center of attention, but he waited to see her reaction.
Hope smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.” She patted him on the thigh, fingers brushing the inside of his leg, kicking steel into his cock. However, she didn’t continue touching him, but popped out of the chair, adjusting the paper crown—whose antennae were falling out to the sides now—and smiled at Wendy who also rose.
Together the women stood closest to the fire as Wendy pointed a finger at Erick who was operating the machine. When Tavares blared through the speaker, he grinned. “Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel” was a song he knew well, thanks to Mr. Delano Conner. The man did love his funk music.
She and Wendy belted out the words, hips shaking and gyrating in a manner that only added more tightness to his pants. Every time her crown slipped, she slapped a hand to keep it in place, the move placing his focus on her breasts as they pushed against her top.