Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
She rolls to face me, her cheeks still flushed and a shine in her eyes I’m damned proud to have put there.
“Hi, there,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Hi, there,” I reply, brushing a strand of hair from her pretty face, loving her like this, with her makeup kissed away and her natural beauty on full display. “Orgasms look good on you.”
Her smile widens. “Thanks, they feel good on me.” She makes a soft, considering sound. “So…that’s sex.”
My lips quirk and that increasingly familiar warmth spreads through my chest. “Yep. That was sex, all right. So…what do you think? Did it live up to your expectations?”
“God, yes,” she says, with a happy sigh. “It was so good. So much better than I even imagined. And so much…”
“So much?” I prompt after a beat.
“So much more,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
I don’t respond with words. I don’t trust myself not to say something too intimate, too real for the game of pretend we’re supposed to be playing. But the truth is there in the way I cradle her close, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips, soft and sweet.
And the truth is that she’s right, this is so much more.
More than I bargained for.
More than my betrayal-scarred heart had dared to hope was possible.
Probably more than I deserve…
And I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.
chapter 10
MAYA
I wake slowly, deliciously sore in all the right places.
Sunlight streams through the hazy, tinted glass, bathing the room in pale blue light. Outside, birds chirp, someone shouts obscenities from the street below, and a garbage truck rumbles around the corner, vibrating the brick wall behind me. The sounds are so signature New York, they make me smile as I stretch my arms over my head.
God, I love it here. It’s so different than Maine, so busy and vibrant and alive. It makes me feel more alive, just existing in the Big Apple.
Still, I’ve never woken up quite this happy to be in the city.
But then, I’ve never woken up freshly bedded by a gorgeous man to the smell of something delicious cooking downstairs, either.
My man isn’t simply gorgeous and the best at sex, he apparently also gets up early to make breakfast.
Be still my heart…
For a moment, I lie in Anthony’s cozy bed, savoring the memories of last night. All the things we did, all the things I know we’ll do again, all the things I have yet to discover…the possibilities are dizzying. And wonderful, and I’ve never been so glad to know I still have six whole nights to spend with someone as I am right now.
A soft, fretful voice in my head warns that I’ll be equally devastated come New Year’s Eve, when we head to bed together for the last time, but I push it aside.
For once in my life, I’m determined to stay in the moment. I’ll go back to keeping an eye to the future when my time with Anthony is through. Until then, I intend to relish every second with the world’s best fake boyfriend.
Though I should probably go feed the cat before I ask Anthony to pretty-please kiss me senseless while he fingers me against the refrigerator.
Pudge is probably—
“Oh no.” I bolt upright, shame flooding my chest as I realize I forgot to feed Pudge last night. In the midst of all the scary drama at the hotel, and the much more enjoyable drama once we arrived at Anthony’s, it completely slipped my mind.
Gah, I’m the worst!
My poor fur baby must be starved to death.
“See, sex is dangerous,” I mutter as I scramble into my clothes from last night—jeans, sweater, but no bra because I can’t find it immediately, and I refuse to make Pudge wait a second longer than necessary for his breakfast. “One night with a penis, and you’ve become a deadbeat cat parent.”
I hurry down the steep staircase, nearly tripping over my own feet as I move faster than my recently awakened muscles are prepared for, only to stop dead at the base of the stairs.
I expected to find Pudge sprawled on his back in front of the fridge, dramatically playing dead the way he does when I work late and don’t get back to feed him until seven. Instead, my big orange love is happily munching from a ceramic bowl on the floor, decorated with tiny blue paws around the edge. Next to it sits a matching water dish.
And there, at the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but a pair of gray-and-white striped pajama pants and looking unfairly delicious for a man with his hair sticking up in ten different directions, Anthony is cracking eggs into a small white bowl.
When he sees me, his face lights up, banishing any concern that he won’t be as happy to see me as I am to see him. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he murmurs. “How’d you sleep?”