Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I couldn’t stop looking at the dress. That red would bring out the warmth in her cognac eyes, the subtle hints of auburn in her hair, the pink in her creamy skin. This was the kind of thing she should be wearing, not those ugly suits.
“What’s that?” I asked before she could disappear into her bedroom.
She looked down at the dress and bit her lip in what I thought was embarrassment. Her words spilled out in a rush, “Oh, uh, just something I ordered online. I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s too short. And red. It’s so red.”
The dress was not short. It probably hit an inch above her knee. Not what anyone would consider short.
“Wear it,” I said.
Startled, Hope hugged the dress to her chest. “No, I can’t. It’s too—”
“I’m your husband,” I countered. “You promised to obey me.”
A snort burst from her elegant nose, dissolving into a laugh. “I did not promise to obey you.”
“You did,” I insisted. I wasn’t paying that much attention to the vows, to be honest, but the flags of color on Hope’s cheeks matched her dress, so I egged her on a little more. “I’m your lord and master in all things now, and I say you have to wear the dress.”
She laughed harder, snorting again as she tried to get her giggles under control and tell me to shut my trap. Finally, shaking her head, she conceded, “I’ll try it on, but I’m not wearing it out.”
“Good enough,” I agreed, sliding past her into the bathroom. I was in and out of the shower in a flash before brushing my teeth and running my fingers through my wet hair. A towel hiked around my waist, I raided my emergency bag for a clean pair of boxers and pulled on my jeans and flannel shirt. I wasn’t putting that suit back on. If Edgar and Harvey couldn’t handle me in jeans that was their problem.
The door to Hope’s bedroom remained closed. Impatient, I poured myself another mug of coffee and waited. That dress gave me hope, pun intended. That dress fit this apartment. Fit the girl I’d known. The woman I knew she hid deep inside.
When my coffee was almost empty, the door to Hope’s bedroom opened. She’d pulled her hair back into another bun, this one softer around her face. She hadn’t bothered with much makeup, not that she needed it. Red glass beads caught the light at her ears, an exact match for the dress. And the dress— The dress was perfectly Hope.
It wasn’t too short or too red. Skimming her slender frame, it was neither shapeless nor too tight, hugging her hips before it flared just above her knees. The dress showed almost no skin. It shouldn’t have been alluring, but the way it framed the curve of her breasts, her narrow waist, and the flare of her hips left my fingers itching to touch.
She curled her fingers over the bell sleeve, tugging, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It needs tights and boots,” she said.
“Do you have tights and boots?” I asked.
A jerk of her chin, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
I wanted to punch Edgar. Hope had no idea what she looked like. As the man who’d raised her, it was his job to make sure she knew her own worth. Clearly, he’d royally fucked that up.
“Hope,” I said softly. She raised her head, nerves skittering in her eyes when they met mine. “You look beautiful. You have good taste. I don’t know what’s up with those suits, but—”
“Uncle Edgar bought them. He bought all my work clothes.”
I didn’t know what to do with that. “Hope, that’s weird, and he has terrible taste.”
“It’s not weird. He likes a certain atmosphere in the office, and he didn’t like the way I dressed when I picked my own clothes. I got tired of him complaining, so when he bought me some suits, I just wore them.”
I shook my head. “It is weird. And you’re not working in Edgar’s office anymore. You’re working for me. You can wear anything you want. Though I’ll beg you not to wear those suits he bought you. Otherwise, I don’t care. Wear jeans or pajamas. Wear your robe. Or, you could just work naked.”
The flush in her cheeks matched her dress. Giving in to impulse, I pressed my lips to hers, tasting Chapstick and toothpaste. The second my mouth hit hers, I wanted more.
Not the time, damn it. It kept taking me by surprise, how much I wanted her. There was so much wrapped up in being near Hope. Affection and resentment. Anger so old it was starting to crumble.
And lust.
Need.
I wanted Hope, wanted her naked and in my bed.
I had not seen that coming when I drove back into Sawyers Bend.