Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
I look much better in the mirror when I’m finished with the lotion. Last night was rough, and it showed on my face, but now my cheeks are pink from the bath and my eyes aren’t as red as they were. You can hardly tell I was crying.
I slip the robe over my shoulders, tie the belt in front, and go back out into the main penthouse, quietly, but not without calling out his name.
He doesn’t answer so I call out louder, “Graham?”
There’s music playing in the living room, and someone has set up a table with a white tablecloth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Graham’s lighting a candle in the center as I pad up behind him.
I have to blink away the disbelief.
“You shouldn’t have done all this,” I say, more heat flooding my face. “After last night—”
“Yes, I should because I want to.” He finishes lighting the candle and smiles at me. “And because I want you.” It’s a shy, vulnerable smile, and he leans forward to kiss my forehead before he pulls out my chair and helps me into it.
Graham has unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, so I’m not the only one who’s made themselves more comfortable.
My mouth waters, looking at his forearms. There’s a deep need and a deep ache at the thought of lying in his arms.
It’s all I want. He pulls the chair out for me and I thank him, once again taken aback.
I have a feeling though that he really wants to talk, and I know I have a lot of explaining to do.
I focus on the table instead. He’s put two flowers in a vase near the edge of the table and they’re lovely. I was not in a good place when I saw that flower shop yesterday. I love flowers, and I happen to believe that beautiful flowers can make any bad situation at least a little better.
I almost start to admit how foolish I feel. How I’m just emotional because of my cousin, because of my aunt, and because of money and this situation and all of my uncertainty. I nearly let all the words tumble out, but when I look up, Graham has an expression I can’t place, and I keep my lips firmly shut.
Graham steps away from the table, returning a minute later with the bottle of wine. He hesitates over my glass. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it.” I give him a smile I know doesn’t reach my eyes, and he smiles back. He’s a striking man, and his charming look sends heat all through me.
Graham pours us both a glass, then leaves again.
It’s quiet but for the gentle classic music. With steadying breaths I prepare to just come clean and tell him I’m in over my head in more ways than one.
He comes back with plates that go on top of the fancy china at our places, then leaves one more time. By the time he’s done bringing the food, we have a basket of hot, fluffy rolls, a silver dish of mashed potatoes that look like they’re to die for, two more sides, a plate of seared scallops and lobster tails, and a plate of very tender beef that almost looks like stew. All I know is that it smells like heaven, and I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
Graham takes his place across from me and scans the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
You, I want to say but instead opt for gratitude. “No. This looks amazing. Thank you.”
We eat for a few minutes. I was right. The mashed potatoes are to die for. Everything is swimming in butter and just the right amount of salty goodness. Graham looks even more handsome with the candlelight on his face.
We eat, although I eat slowly. I’m certain I know what comes next and I’m not ready.
It’s still too silent and I know it is when he clears his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he says tentatively.
“Are you sure we should…now?” I nearly chicken out.
“I think we should. I’m sorry I didn’t stay to talk longer.” Graham looks me in the eye, his regret clear. “I mean it, Maddie.”
“I’m sorry I said that word.”
His silverware stops in midair. “I’m sorry I listened to it,” he tells me. “I know that’s wrong but leaving you because you safeworded me isn’t what—”
“I didn’t want you to leave. I just wanted it to stop.”
He stops and I apologize for interrupting.
“Did you not think I’d leave?”
“I thought you wouldn’t push for what was wrong,” I tell him.
He drops his silverware. “Did you want me to stay?” he asks.
“I wouldn’t have pushed you away if you’d come to bed.” I almost tell him I’d rather he have taken me to his bed though.