Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
When he looked up, his eyes were a little misty. “Come here, you brilliant woman.”
Still clutching the frame, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight; I’d expected him to like the present, but I hadn’t expected it to move him so much.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said with a surprised laugh that was cut off by my lack of breath as Neil squeezed the hell out of me.
With a soft chuckle of his own, he released me. “Like it? Sophie, I love it. That night was the perfect way to start my year. And this is the perfect way to end it. The middle was a bit dodgy, I’m afraid, but the book ends are lovely.”
With one finger against the glass in the frame, he traced the line of my jaw. I shivered as though he’d touched me.
“Okay,” I said brightly, or else I was going to start blubbering. “I get to open mine now.”
“It’s nowhere near as thoughtful,” he said ruefully. “I’m embarrassed now.”
Tearing the paper off a Christmas present just thrills my materialistic little heart. I grinned to myself at the half-circle of birds and flowers stamped on the plain box. It was Carine Gilson’s logo. Her lingerie was to die for. I couldn’t wait to see what Neil had gotten for me.
I parted the tissue paper inside, and my fingers brushed a pool of the softest azure silk I had ever felt. Breathless, I lifted the nightgown by its slender straps and a reverent “oh!” crossed my lips as the ankle-length gown unfurled, revealing the designer’s signature lace embellishments.
“There’s a robe in there, as well,” Neil said. “Do you like it?”
“Do I…” My mouth dropped open. I rubbed the silk on my face. It was as soft as I imagined Lily Cole’s skin to be.
“Put it on,” he urged. “This is almost as much a present for me as it is for you.”
“How thoughtful,” I said wryly as I stood and let my bathrobe slip from my shoulders. Neil’s gaze raked appreciatively over my naked form as I lifted the nightgown over my head. The silk was absolute heaven, like the softest, sweetest oil slick. It floated to my ankles, skimmed my every curve, hugged my body perfectly.
Neil’s big hands closed over my hips, and he pulled me forward to nuzzle his face against my belly.
“Hey!” I jumped back, out of his grasp. “Your stupid beard is gonna snag my fancy new nightie.”
“Stupid?” he gasped, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “I thought you’d grown to like it!”
I tried to avoid his reach when he started to grab me, but he’s a tall guy and mostly arms and legs. There was no eluding him, and he tackled me to the bed, both of us laughing breathlessly. He rubbed his rough chin into my neck, making me squeal and squirm as he pinned me beneath him. And just as quickly as the moment had turned playful, it became tender. He lifted his head, smiled his crooked half-smile down at me, and stroked my hair back from my face.
“This is weird,” I whispered, gazing up at him, searching his eyes for something I wasn’t really sure was missing. “This house, this country, the language… It’s a whole separate part of your life. It’s like I didn’t really know you.”
“You knew me,” he said, sleepy, confident. “You just didn’t know me in this context.”
I flipped to my belly, relishing the slide of the silk between the duvet and my body. He slowly walked his fingers up my spine as I spoke. “No, seriously. I’m fascinated by this change.”
A smile curved his mouth, then he rolled to his back and pulled me against his side, cradling my head on his shoulder. He combed through my hair with his fingers and sighed contentedly. “I suppose it’s because I’m home. I spent a large part of my childhood here—the happiest part, really. When I was in the ICU, I thought I would die. And I thought…I can’t die without seeing my brothers again. And I can’t die before I take Sophie to meet them.”
A lump rose in my throat. In addition to our couple’s’ therapy, Neil had been seeing someone about the PTSD caused by spending weeks in isolation in the ICU, sedated and on a ventilator. He had a difficult time talking about those days, and I was worried for him now. “We don’t have to talk about that, if you don’t want to.”
“Actually, I’m not that bothered; it’s getting easier. And this isn’t denial. I feel relieved to be telling you all this. I want you to share every part of my life with me. And I want to share every part of your life with you.”
“We do sha—” I began, and his hand gently covered my mouth.