Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
More intelligent thoughts might center on why I’m doing this. How I changed my mind. But as I stood in the bathroom earlier, my heart beating wildly and my senses jangling like keys on a chain, I listened—really listened—to what Fin was saying from the other side of the door. I realized he was trying to make me feel better about the way I woke him. All over him. He was absolving me of blame, trying to get me to laugh, even. But if the shoe had been on the other foot, if I had woken to a mauling, might it have been a different story?
At the very least, I would’ve been as prickly as a hedgehog. At the other side of that scale might’ve been some scary accusations. Potentially, at least.
I want you so much it hurts.
The longing in his words broke something open inside me. I realized it was relief. Fin is unlike any other man I’ve ever known. Under that licentious facade, the playboy image, he’s just so decent. Last night, he not only offered to pay for Baba’s room, but he even let me be ridiculous about it for a while. In fact, his response made me realize how absurd my behavior was.
I’m heading for thirty, and this might be the nearest I ever get to marriage. It could take me years to rebuild my business, and I want to devote as much of my time to Baba as I can. She won’t be here forever, and her mind will leave me sometime before her body finally does.
And if that’s not a wake-up call for grabbing life while you can, I’m not sure what is.
Which is why I decided to make the most of this opportunity, of this honeymoon. I’m so stupidly attracted to Fin, we’re both single, and we’re sharing a bed in paradise. So what if he’s king of the commitment-phobes, because I have no space in my life for a man.
In a few short days, I’ll be back to London, and if I’m really lucky (thanks to my bonus wedding fee), life will be boring, humdrum, and gray. Because boring and gray are better than a white-knuckle existence any day.
I might never find a man I can trust my heart with, but I know I can trust Fin in this experience. If not this marriage in the traditional sense. He’s made our relationship a safe space, and after what I’ve been through lately, that means everything to me.
The light dims as he steps into the suite, the soles of his feet slap-slapping the tile before he dips and sets me down in the bedroom. The sheet I snatched earlier lies in a heap at the bottom of the mattress. Maybe I should’ve straightened it before he—
All thoughts, distracting and otherwise, dissolve as I find my face in his hands. Like I’m something to treasure. He holds me there, his eyes drinking me in with a kind of soft-eyed wonder. Oh, yes. I like this.
“Hey, beautiful.” His words stroke like a caress. Whoever said romance is dead never had a man look at them this way.
“Hello,” I whisper a little breathlessly as champagne bubbles pop in my bloodstream. But this isn’t real romance, I need to remind myself. At least, not in the love sense. This is the romance equivalent of fake fur. From a distance, it looks real. It might even feel similar when you brush it the right way.
Who are you trying to convince? PETA?
Not-Ronny can . . . go away.
His thumb presses my chin, angling my mouth for the brush of his. Or maybe I’m overthinking it, as he doesn’t move in for that kiss.
“You’re frowning,” he says as his thumb gently boops my nose. “I’m not.”
Did he actually just do that? Like I’m a golden retriever and not a woman standing in front of him, naked. Physically and emotionally.
“You’re not what?” I ask as my brows knot.
“Frowning. Ask me why.”
“Okay.” I roll in my lips, moistening them. “Why aren’t you frowning?”
“Because I’m too fucking happy.”
“Right.” So bloody well do something about it, then!
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I thought you were going to kiss me.” And I’m crawling out of my skin with need, and you just booped me. “And I suppose just standing here feels a bit of a waste when there’s a bed—”
I twist from the waist in the direction of said bed, when Fin turns me back, pulling me against him to fasten his lips to mine. He kisses me, really kisses me. It’s a kiss that’s neither frantic nor frenzied, but slow, and thorough, like he’s been waiting to kiss me for years.
His broad palms coast down my sides and slide around my back as he moves closer—moves into me, deepening his kiss. He steals my breath and feeds me his, as his fingers curl around the soft flesh of my hips, pinning me in place as he pulls away.