Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Tell me why,” I say, feeling breathless and more than a little embarrassed.
He takes his time answering. I think the guy likes to torture me. “We’re going to be married for five years,” he says softly like he’s trying to make sure his words don’t freak me out, but too late for that. “I never wanted a wife, but now that I have one, I’d like to at least have a relationship with you. Maybe we’re not in love, and maybe we’re not forever, but we’re in this together for a while. I was thinking some intimacy might smooth things over. If we go through the motions—” He shrugs and gestures in the air, indicating that anything could happen.
I swallow and lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I was thinking—” I start and have to stop, because he’s leaning forward, his eyes locked on mine, and it’s intimidating. Simon’s got an aura around him like a heavy blanket and when he directs it at me, it’s like I’m being crushed by his attention.
I force myself to sit up and straighten my spine. I may come from nothing, but my father taught me to never bow my head, not for anyone.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I tell him, tilting my chin up. “And if you’re going to be the father of my child, then maybe it’s not a bad idea, you know, to get comfortable with each other.”
That stuns him. I like when he leans back and stares at me with an expression caught between surprise and delight, like I said the one magic phrase that could cure all disease or something. He runs a hand through his hair, giving me a glimpse of his forearm again and lays a hand on the table between us, palm up.
“That’s a very good point,” he says and glances at his hand, the implication clear.
I don’t move yet. “I want certain assurances,” I say, feeling mortified and way out of my depth. “You won’t touch me. I mean, this isn’t a sexual thing. It’s about building trust and intimacy.”
“I won’t touch you until you ask me to.”
I grind my jaw. “There’s no until, it’s not happening.” Which is a massive lie. I can see myself begging him to tease me late at night, but if I don’t speak it, maybe it’ll never come to pass.
Wishful thinking. I’m going to ride this guy’s palm like it’s a fucking horse.
“What else do you need?” he asks, and I like the sound of that word on his lips, need.
“Just no touching. I think that’s reasonable. And I want you to start coming home for dinner most nights.” I tack on that last request on a whim. I like the idea of sitting down for meals together. Again, as a way to build intimacy. Not because I enjoy his company. No, never that.
“I’ll try my best,” he says and sounds sincere. “I can’t promise every night, but I’ll make it a priority.”
I bite my lip, trying to think of some other demand, but his hand still hovers between us, and his fingers look so damn inviting, and I just can’t help myself.
I reach out and put my palm in his.
He laces his fingers through mine. They’re so big, so long and thick. I shiver and close my eyes, and I hope he doesn’t see the ecstasy on my face.
“Tonight then,” he says. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
Absolutely fucking not.
Not even a little bit.
“We’ll find out,” I say and manage a smile.
Chapter 23
Emily
His bed is big and comfortable.
It actually kind of pisses me off. The bed in the guest room was fine, if a little firm, but this one is fantastic. It’s got the right sink, the perfect amount of bounce, and I feel like I’m wrapped in a comfortable cocoon when I roll into his Egyptian cotton sheets with some ungodly high thread count.
“It feels like shoving myself into lotion,” I moan, writhing my legs up and down.
He laughs and clicks off the light. It’s a little past midnight and I’m guessing he’d normally stay up later, but we decided to get this over with.
“I’m glad you appreciate the small luxuries,” he says, and his voice is a low purr in the near blackness of the room. I stretch my legs and can almost feel his breath blowing across my neck, even though I know he’s lying on his side of the king-sized mattress.
I never really shared a bed with any of my boyfriends. For obvious reasons when I was younger—my father was always a little overprotective of me, but he meant well—and when I got older because I was always busy working. Even before my dad got scammed, I’ve had multiple jobs, though usually I didn’t try to work myself to death. I had a decent apartment, at least compared to the little efficiency I was living in before moving into Simon’s house, but I never moved in with any of my boyfriends.