Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Gerrit is the first guy I’ve ever felt this kind of attraction to. There is something there, and he clearly feels it too. I get out of bed, wanting to go spend more time with him before I need to get home and deal with my mother. I grab his shirt off the floor, pulling it on but don’t see my panties anywhere. Am I going to have to do the walk of shame out of here in my wrinkled dress from last night?
I look around the bedroom, knowing we’re still in the city and this place is big. I remember pulling up to a townhome. It’s not where I pictured him living. I was thinking of a penthouse of some kind. This is a home tastefully done. I’m sure by a designer. I don’t want to think about what this place cost. Especially in the part of town we’re in.
I use the bathroom, doing the best I can to get my hair under control, and wipe the rest of the makeup off my face before I venture out to find Gerrit. I take my time looking around, knowing this is going to be my home very soon.
“You can change anything you like. I know shit about design but everything about real estate.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “ I know this place must cost a fortune.”
He shrugs, walking over toward me.
“It’s a good investment either way. Its value will only grow each year.” I’ll take his word for it because Gerrit is right. He does know everything about real estate. It’s how he’s made a name for himself. He puts his finger under my chin to tilt my head back to look up at him. “I don’t want it to be fine. I want it to be our home. If you don’t like it we can find something else.”
“No, it's wonderful. It just feels awkward decorating your place.”
He shakes his head. “That’s another reason I need you to put your touches on it. I want it to feel like yours too. We said we’re going to try this. Give this marriage a real chance, didn't we?” I nod my head. A lump forms in my throat at the sweet way he’s looking at me. He’s giving me a Gerrit I’ve never seen before. Yeah, something definitely changed last night. “Then you’ll make it a home for us?”
“Yes,” I agree, wrapping my arms around him to pull him down for a kiss. He takes it, his hands going to my ass. He lets out a growl when he realizes I don’t have any panties on. I giggle against his mouth.
“You need food.” He breaks the kiss as he lifts me off my feet and carries me into the kitchen. He sets me on the giant island in the center. This kitchen begs to be cooked in. I continue to look around as Gerrit walks over to the counter to grab a cup of coffee. He returns, handing it to me. I take a sip, smiling. It’s fixed the way I like it.
“You know how I take my coffee?”
“A lot of milk and sugar with a splash of coffee. Yeah.” He chuckles, walking back over to the counter. I watch as he pours himself a cup. He doesn’t put anything in it. He drinks it black. My eyes trace the lines of his body. The man is too sexy for his own damn good. The realization that he will be my husband soon makes my heart flutter.
“Like what you see?”
I let out a long sigh. “Yes, but don’t think I’ll be joining you in whatever gym it is that you must frequent. Unless it’s solely to watch you.”
He gives me a deep laugh. He sits down, sliding his cup over toward me. “I sit in an office all day. The gym helps me burn off energy and stress.” My legs spread on their own, making room for him. “And I enjoy you the way you are.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “But the gym is downstairs and you're more than welcome to come and watch anytime you like.” He leans down to kiss me, but the doorbell sounds.
“I’ll be right back. That’s our food.” He drops a kiss on my nose before grabbing something off the counter. I see it’s my purse from last night.
Oh God. I’d totally forgotten about it. He must have gotten it for me somehow. He winks at me before leaving the kitchen. The man really does remember everything. I pull out my phone to see a few texts from my sister and some from the wedding planner.
I start to respond but hear a familiar voice that has me rolling my eyes. I slip off the counter hating how cliché I’m being hating on my soon-to-be husband's assistant. She hasn't come right out and said it to me, but it’s clear she doesn't like me. I picked up on that during some of the wedding planning when she was there to help. She hasn't been around much more since I’d made the comment to Gerrit at dinner the other night.