Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
In two weeks, Tiffany will be hooded and ready for a founders’ night that will put the glory wall to shame, and there is sweet fuck all I can do about it.
Not without risking everything.
17
TIFFANY
Iknow a thing or two about beds – since I’ve slept in more than a few over the past four years – and this one is fit for royalty. Five stars from me.
Hardly a surprise though, since this one belongs to Reuben Sinclair.
His mattress is huge and so comfortable it’s like floating on a cloud. His pillows are perfect and his sheets are the kind of high-grade cotton I love. But it’s mainly the scent of him I’m addicted to.
It’s clear which side of the bed is his. There’s a paperback on the nightstand, with an alarm clock and phone charger, but the sheets give more away than his nightstand does. They smell like him.
I can’t help myself lolling further over, even though it’s against some of my wackier principles. Sleeping in someone’s space has always held a sacredness to me.
I hate people sleeping on my side. Ever. Not even Josh ever did it on bestie nights. It’s just one of those things. My side is always my side, and Reuben’s should be Reuben’s – especially since he isn’t here to invite me into it, but I can’t resist. I hold his pillow tight and breathe him in. I don’t know what makes scents so powerful, but I get an animalistic rush at the thought of him lying here, sleeping.
Sleeping next to me.
I want him next to me.
I want to share this bed with him, and hear his deep breaths in the night. Feel his arms around me. Touch his naked skin while he’s far away in dreamland.
I’ve actually managed a decent few hours of shut eye since Reuben left for the grotto. As tempting as it would be to hole up here under the covers straight through until he gets home, I’m going to have to shift my butt. My mug is empty on my nightstand, as well as the water glass next to it. I need a pee and another round of painkillers to help combat my aches and pains from the glory wall. I always keep a stash in my handbag for such occasions.
Plus, I have a whole manor’s worth of curiosities to explore. The home of the man I’m obsessed with is here for the stalking. It’ll give me a lot more insight into him than an online grotto calendar and Reuben Sinclair search terms ever will.
There’s a robe on the back of the bedroom door that just about fastens around me. Maybe I should have taken the opportunity to drop into Belgravia this morning since I have little here with me. Just some half washed lingerie still discarded in the shower, and a dirty coat and stilettos downstairs.
I’m making my way downstairs when I hear my phone ringing. Crap. I don’t remember where I left my bag. Probably in the kitchen, on one of the worktops, or by the breakfast bar while I was drinking my hot chocolate. It cuts out while I’m dashing to the kitchen, then starts right back up again… behind me.
Turns out my bag is hung up in the main hallway. My gentlemanly client must have put it there for me. My phone is still ringing when I fish it from my bag, and my loved-up smile disappears when I see the name on screen. It rings out again before I can answer.
Josh.
Oh, fucking hell. FUCK.
There are eighteen missed calls from his number in the notifications window.
I didn’t check back in with him this morning after the glory wall. I forgot to update him on my next proposal!
I call straight back with my heart in my throat.
“Hey,” I say.
“Tiff?! What the fuck? Where are you? Are you ok?”
I could slap my own forehead. “Yeah, I’m cool. All good. Was just tired. Sleeping. Sorry, my bad. Should have let you know.”
“Should have let me know?! No fucking shit! I’ve been worried sick. So has Ella. We figured you were asleep, so called around your place to check, and you weren’t there. So, where the fuck are you?”
Bollocks.
I picture Josh in my apartment, searching for me, scared shitless to find I wasn’t at home. We have a key to each other’s places, and I didn’t send him a fucking D&S message when I finished last night. He didn’t know I was done and safe.
Fuck it.
“Where are you, Tiff?”
“I’m, um… busy. I’m on another proposal.”
“On another proposal? After the glory wall? Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, something came up. An urgent one.”
“Really? Why the fuck didn’t you let me know? I got onto Orla a few hours ago and it looked to her like you were busy. Then she sounded weird. Said there were some things she’d investigate on your calendar, but hell knows what. She wouldn’t fucking tell me. Agency rules and all that, so I know she couldn’t give me more, but I was about to call the fucking police, Tiff. I thought you’d been fucking kidnapped!”