Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“What?”
“Your number is seven.”
“What does that mean?”
“Seven is the number of the gods, it’s magical.”
“What, since when?” I smile. “How do you know that?”
“Numerology. Google it.”
I lie down on my back. “Well, I don’t feel very magical.”
He rolls over on top of me and holds my hands over my head. “I’ll be the judge of that.” His lips drop to my neck and he begins to nibble his way down my body.
“Numerology doesn’t refer to my vagina, Elliot.” I giggle softly.
He takes my nipple between his teeth. “Yes it does.”
The hired car pulls into the driveway and I peer out of the window at the house before us. It’s white and traditional, with a large wraparound veranda and beautiful well-kept gardens. The driver stops the car and gets out to unload the luggage from the trunk.
Elliot dips his head to look in. “It seems okay.”
“You’ve never been here before?” I ask.
“No, but a friend of Tristan’s has, he said it was nice.”
I smile and hunch my shoulders in excitement. “Anywhere will do. I don’t care if we go camping. Maybe next time we can?”
“Yeah, okay.” He chuckles as he opens the door. “My brother has told me all about camping, I’ll meet you there.”
I smile: that’s code for I’m never going camping.
We get out of the car and Elliot tips the driver, and then he wheels our two suitcases up the path to the house.
The front door opens and a man comes into view. He’s wearing a white uniform that looks like scrubs. He’s elderly, perhaps in his sixties. “Hello Mr. Miles.” He speaks in a strong accent. His hair is dark and he’s quite handsome for his age.
“Hello.” Elliot shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“My name is Henley and I’m the caretaker of Brogana. Welcome.”
Elliot gestures to me. “This is Kathryn.”
“Hello.” I smile and I shake his hand.
“Come in, come in.” He gestures to the house as he walks in; we follow him inside and my breath is stolen.
“Wow,” I whisper in awe.
Elliot’s face breaks into a broad smile as he looks around. Everything is white and the furnishings are a dark timber, in the antique style. There are huge rugs in bold colors and abstract art is hung. The entire back wall is glass bi-fold doors with a breathtaking view over the beach and sea. A huge deep-blue infinity pool is by the deck. This place is out of this world.
“There’s a private track through that gate that leads down to the beach,” Henley says as he gestures to an antique-looking gate to the left. “The bedrooms, bathrooms, and gymnasium are down the corridor and you have twenty-four-hour room service—there are staff in the quarters on the property that are at your beck and call. If there is anything that you need, please just ring the bell.” He hands a remote to Elliot. “I hope the property is to your standard, sir.”
Elliot nods. “It’s lovely, thank you.”
Henley smiles and nods with a bow. “I will leave you alone, sir.”
“Thank you.” I smile as excitement fills me.
“Henley,” Elliot says, “can you tell me a good restaurant to eat at tonight?”
He smiles kindly. “Of course, sir, what do you feel like eating?”
Elliot’s eyes come to me. “What do you want, sweetheart?”
My stomach flips; I love it when he calls me that. “You pick, Henley, surprise us.” I smile. “I like everything.”
Henley nods. “Very well, Kathryn, what time?”
“Um . . .” I look between them.
Elliot glances at his watch. “Perhaps in an hour and a half.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll notify you of the booking once I’ve made it.” Henley walks out and closes the door behind him.
Elliot takes me into his arms. “Seven days here.” He smiles down at me.
“I know.” I stand on my toes to kiss his big, beautiful lips. “I’m not sure I can cope with such torture.”
“Well,” Elliot replies. “I hope you like eating goat’s testicles for dinner.”
My face falls in horror. “He wouldn’t.”
“Rule number one in traveling, Kate.” He kisses me again. “Never say you like every food.” He taps me on the nose. “Because trust me, you don’t.” He turns and wheels our suitcases up the hallway toward our room and I smile after him.
“I like your balls,” I call. “And you’re a bit of a goat.”
He laughs out loud and it’s deep and happy and it rumbles deep in my psyche. I smile goofily as he reappears and sees my face. “What’s that look for?”
“You have a beautiful laugh.”
He raises his eyebrow. “For a goat, you mean?”
“Yes.” I giggle. “For a goat.”
The fairy lights twinkle overhead and I smile across the table at my dreamy date.
Thankfully we are eating seafood, not a goat’s ball in sight.
The conversation is smooth and witty and never seems to run dry; it’s so weird, Elliot and I really do get along very well. We laugh and talk and everything feels very organic between us. There’s a lot more to us than steaming hot sex . . . even though there does seem to be a lot of that.