Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
He knows me better than I thought he did.
My first instinct is to somehow escape his hold and flee, but it only takes seconds for me to squash that idea. I’ve never felt as safe or as protected as I do in his arms. How is it that just the way he holds me while we’re sleeping, he makes me feel wanted? Physical affection isn’t something I’ve received a lot of in my life. My ex didn’t like to cuddle, kiss, or do anything other than get himself off. One night with Rushton, and I know how selfish my ex was. What’s worse is deep down, I knew it all along, but I stayed with him just so I wouldn’t be so alone.
I refuse to be that person ever again.
“Morning, gorgeous.” Rushton kisses my shoulder. “Sleep well?”
“Morning,” I reply. I ignore his question because I have a feeling it’s going to be hard for me to keep pushing him away after this, and I don’t need to give him any ammunition to use against me.
Somehow, I need to convince him that last night was a mistake. A one-time occurrence that will not be repeated. At least not until I know what my future holds. I’m already so attached to him. I can feel my heart cracking with the thought of telling him last night meant nothing when it meant everything.
His phone rings, and he releases me to reach over and grab it. “Hello?” he answers, his voice gruff and laced with sleep. It’s sexy.
“I’m not sure yet.” I can hear another male voice on the other end. “I’ll let you know.” Something else is said before he says goodbye. Dropping his phone onto the bed, he rolls back over and pulls me back into his arms.
Dammit. It was the perfect chance to escape, and I was frozen listening to his raspy, sexy morning voice. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, that was Merrick. He was asking if I want him to take me to get my truck.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot that it wasn’t here.”
“What are your plans for the day?” he asks.
“I have laundry and grocery shopping for the week. Just the normal things I don’t have time to get done during the week.”
“How about I make us some breakfast? We start on your laundry, head to the store, and then you can go with me to Sunday dinner at my parents’?”
“I really have too much to do.” Lies. Sure, I have things to do, but not too much that I can’t spare a few hours for dinner. Lines are getting blurred already, and I have to shut this down before they cross completely.
“Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.” He completely ignores my refusal to go to Sunday dinner with him. He drops a kiss on my cheek before climbing out of bed. I don’t move. I stay frozen in place as I hear him getting dressed. The bathroom door closes, and I heave a sigh of relief. Last night, I knew what I was doing was foolish. Nothing good ever comes from pretending.
A couple of minutes later, the bathroom door opens. “Get moving, sleepyhead. We have a big day,” Rushton says, with way too much chipper in his voice for this time of the day. My bedroom door opens and closes, and I know he’s no longer in the room with me.
Forcing myself to get moving, I grab clothes and lock myself in my bathroom. It’s ridiculous after what we did with one another last night to lock him out, but it’s not just my bathroom I’m trying to lock him out of. My heart needs to be on lockdown as well. I just need to keep reminding myself of that fact. I seem to forget that when it comes to Rushton Kincaid.
Twenty minutes later, I know it’s time to face the music or the man. I head toward the kitchen where I hear him moving around. He looks up when I enter the room, and his smile stalls the breath in my lungs. The Kincaid family’s genes really are unfair. Although, to me, Rushton is by far the most handsome of the brothers.
“There she is. I thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed, lazybones.” He winks and places two plates of pancakes on the table and heads for me. He wraps me in his arms, and in a moment of weakness, I rest my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around him.
I feel his lips press to the top of my head, and I curse myself for not being stronger. Pulling out of his embrace, I smile up at him. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of our thing.” His smile is genuine, and I see nothing sinister lying beneath. All I see is a good man doing right by me, and I still can’t let myself give in to this pull between us.