Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Turning the lock on the door, I set the bag on the counter and begin pulling out the contents. I feel my face heat when I pull out a black silk bra and panty set, and surprisingly in my size. Next is a T-shirt with the hotel’s label, and a pair of cotton shorts.
He bought me clothes.
Hot tears prick my eyes. I’m no one to him, yet he continues to take care of me. It’s overwhelming the feeling of being seen. Not just being seen, but it makes me feel not so alone in the world.
I slip into the bra and panties that fit perfectly and are nicer than anything I’ve ever owned. I reach for the shirt and shorts and spy his shirt on the counter. I have a choice to make. I can wear the clothes he got me or his shirt. Indecision plagues me, and I go with my gut. Placing the shorts and the T-shirt back into the bag, I grip his tee in my hands and bring it to my nose, inhaling his scent. Making a quick decision, I slide out of my bra and slip his shirt over my head. It’s huge on me, hanging to my knees, but that doesn’t bother me. His scent wraps around me just like it did earlier tonight when he held me in his arms.
I place the bra back into the bag and pull out the hairbrush that was sitting in the bottom, and the pack of hair ties, and a toothbrush. Can he be anymore perfect? Five minutes later, I’m turning off the bathroom light and stepping into his room.
“Hey.” His voice is gruff as he takes in the sight of me in his shirt. He grins, his white teeth shining through his dark beard. “I thought you might be hungry,” he says, pointing to the table filled to capacity with food.
“I can’t eat all of that,” I say, eyes wide as my stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.
“I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I got a variety. Come on. I’ll help you eat it.” He motions for me to join him.
“You’ve already eaten.”
“I’m a growing boy,” he says, rubbing his stomach. I’m positive his T-shirt is hiding washboard abs from the feel of his body pressed to mine earlier tonight. Such a shame to keep them hidden.
With careful steps, I take the seat next to him at the small dining table and we begin to eat. Together we sample a little of everything. The food is delicious, and the experience is one I will forever remember. “This is a first for me,” I confess as I wipe my mouth, tossing my napkin on the table.
“Having dinner with a man in his hotel room?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That too. It’s a first for me staying in a hotel, or to have room service, and like you said, with a man.”
“You’ve never stayed in a hotel?”
“No. My mom and I did stay in a motel once. It was dirty and disgusting. There was a gap in the bottom of the door. I swear I watched it all night long, thinking some kind of critter was going to crawl into our room in the middle of the night.”
“How old were you?”
I shrug. “Not sure, I think about six or so.”
“Well, I’m glad I can be your first.” He winks, and my heart trips over in my chest. His eyes remind me of a blue sky on a warm summer day. It’s soothing.
“Me too,” I say honestly, as I place my hand over my mouth to cover my yawn.
“All right, beautiful, let’s get you to bed.”
I watch him as he pushes from the table and stands, offering me his hand. “Owen—” I start, but stop, not able to find the words.
“You’re safe with me, Layla. I know you don’t know me, but I promise you that you can trust me. I just need you here with me tonight. The bed is huge, and I’ll stay on my side if that’s what you want.”
I nod. My head says that him staying on his side is the best plan, while my heart beats double time at the thought of sleeping with his arms wrapped around me all night long.
“I’m going to lock the door and turn off the lights.” He kisses my temple. “Go ahead and get comfortable.”
“Um, what side? I mean, do you have a side?” I ask, sounding like every bit of the inexperienced twenty-five-year-old woman that I am.
“I’m used to sleeping alone, Layla. You pick whatever side you want. All I care about is that you’re here.”
He walks away, and I turn my gaze to the bed. I have a twin in my apartment. I’ve never slept in anything larger. In fact, it wasn’t until I moved out of the structure my mother called our home that I had an actual bed frame. It was left in my apartment when I moved in, and the landlord said it was mine if I wanted it. I remember feeling as though everything was going to be okay. I had a roof over my head, and a real bed to sleep in. I spent some of my savings to buy a new mattress. It was a luxury I didn’t plan on, but I was giving myself something I’d always wanted—a bed of my own.