Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
But then I notice her gaze fixed down, on the ring I’d forgotten was still attached like a limpet to my left ring finger, and my muscles relax. Oh. All she saw was the ring. She doesn’t know about me and John.
Well, unless she saw more this morning than she’s been letting on. Still, I clear my throat, and force the easiest smile possible onto my face. “Oh, uh…” I can’t tell the truth. It’s too humiliating. And it’s the last thing I want all my new coworkers to think about me: that I married John for his money, or that John only hired me because I’m his latest fling, his new Vegas wife. “Not too long. It’s pretty new. Keep forgetting this is here,” I add, laughing, a little bit edgily, though at least Bianca doesn’t seem to notice.
“That’s great.” She smiles and sighs a little wistfully. “I want to marry young, too. I just think there’s no point in waiting until you’re all old and gray, right? Might as well have kids early, so you can have more fun with them when they’re grown up with you.”
My stomach flips. I never thought about that. I never gave much thought to kids, period. I mean, I think I want them eventually. But it always seemed like such a far-off possibility, something to worry about years and years down the line.
Not something I might have to consider now. Much less after one drunken night of blowing off steam in Sin City.
I force myself to smile. “Yeah, I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about kids yet, but… good point.” Bianca grins back at me, and I nod toward the clock. “Lunch?” I ask, mostly to change the subject. To my relief, she nods, and she and Daniel file out, leaving me to unpack the lunch I brought with me from home.
I eat in silence and get back to work quickly. Thanks to all the stopping and starting, I’m much farther behind than I hoped I’d be by the end of the day. I’m still sculpting when Daniel clocks out and Bianca waves goodbye, off to go get some actual office assignments from John himself.
I’m still sculpting when in a far end of the shop, someone flicks off the light.
“Still here,” I call, and footsteps approach, the light flicking back on. I don’t turn around or look up from my project—I’m at a particularly delicate part of the procedure, trying to attach one set of antlers to the base of another. I hold my breath, leaning in, just about to make the connection…
“You’re behind.”
My stomach plummets. Luckily, I catch my hands before they shake too much, and I’m able to finish pressing the two halves together, the seriously heavy-duty glue I used making them stick. I grip them while the glue finishes processing, and glance over my shoulder toward John, who’s standing at my back, arms folded, a cocksure grin on his face that both annoys me and sends a bolt of desire straight to my core.
Fuck. I still want him.
But that’s to be expected. It doesn’t change anything.
It doesn’t mean I can have him.
“I had to save someone’s hands earlier,” I respond curtly, refocusing on my work.
He chuckles.
“Not a joke,” I add. “You really should have more strict safety guidelines introduced before you let people start running around playing with these machines.”
“I had you here,” he replies, coming over to lean against my table, in my line of sight this time. “Seems like you had it all under control, from what Bianca tells me.”
I shoot him a narrowed glare. “Did you send your secretary to spy on me?”
“Hardly.” He chuckles. “She seems to have wanted to do that all on her own. I wonder why. It’s almost as if she seems jealous of you about something…”
I roll my eyes with a grimace. “You wish.”
“I don’t have to.” His hand drops over mine, his fingertips finding the ring and toying with it easily. He’s barely touching me, his palm only skimming the back of my hand, yet already it feels like my whole body is on fire, leaning into that touch, yearning for more, more, more.
I suck in a breath, which catches at the back of my throat, both of our gazes fixed on my finger. On the ring, and everything it represents. All the insane, stupid, wild choices we made.
I take another breath, not sure what I’m about to ask—whether I want to ask him to step back and give me more room… Or come closer and wipe away the space between our bodies entirely. Already, my helpful imagination is providing visions of him sweeping a hand across my desk to clear it before he bends me over, his hands running up my sides, down to my hips, gripping me hard, his lips searing across mine again…