Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I can only stare. “You’ve read When A Scot Ties the Knot?”
“What can I say?” he deadpans gruffly. “I have a soft spot for men in kilts and sex positivity.”
Oh God oh God oh God.
“Funny, but you seem to care very much when I refuse to take shit from you,” I manage.
One side of his mouth kicks up. “I’m not a hero.”
“Who the fuck are you, then?” I ask, because he sure as hell’s been acting the hero tonight. “And where do you hide during the week?”
We’re back at the hotel, and a doorman whisks us inside the quiet, lily-scented oasis that is the Four Seasons Resort The Biltmore Santa Barbara. It’s old-school, a sprawling, Mediterranean-inspired resort that dates back to the 1920s. It has terracotta floors, soaring stucco ceilings, and the lushest, most gorgeous gardens on earth.
A pair of forty-something men with slicked-back hair sit in an alcove to our left, cocktails in hand. They look at me, and Theo looks at them.
He puts a hand on the small of my back and murmurs, “I’m walking you to your room.”
“I’m pretty sure those guys aren’t going to murder me,” I reply, trying very hard not to melt into his touch.
“You said I was being weird tonight.” He meets my eyes. “Let me be weird one more time.”
“Are you saying I was right?”
“I’m saying I’m not letting you walk to your room alone.” He uses his hand to push me forward. “Let’s go.”
I’m hyperaware of the way his body moves beside mine as I lead him to my room. I get that ache again, this time to go home with someone. Not a hookup, but a guy I can stay up with all night and talk to, in between the delectable hotel sex we’ll have again and again and again.
Glancing at Theo, I have to remind myself he is not that guy. He can’t be. Even if he looks adorably uncomfortable when we get to my door and he has to wait as I fumble for my keycard.
Even if I look up at the same time he does and he meets my eyes and says, “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Thanks.”
That’s when I realize he’s standing close enough to kiss me.
In that moment, I wish he would. I wish he’d kiss me hard and dig a hand into my hair and take the choice away from me. I’m not leaving until I fuck you. Open the door and get inside. Now.
His eyes are on my mouth again. For one wild, excruciating, hopeful moment, I actually think he will kiss me. My pulse beats hard and strong in my chest, my throat, tension electrifying the space between us.
He can’t.
We can’t.
But God, do I want to. I’m so turned on. I have so many questions. Is he someone different at work because that’s who he thinks he needs to be to provide for his family? Where did he learn to dance? And can he wear the backward hat again tomorrow?
“Deadbolt the door,” he says, and when his eyes move back to mine they’re stormy, a shade of green similar to the one that darkens the sky just before a bad storm hits.
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Always do.”
“Night, Frasier.”
I don’t know why, but him using my last name makes my heart sink. “Night, Morgan.”
I insert my keycard with a trembling hand, opening the door. Satisfied, Theo turns and stalks down the hall, glancing over his shoulder one last time.
“I’m deadbolting it!”
“You’d better,” he replies.
I typically don’t bring my vibrator with me on overnight trips, but the shower blessedly has a removable shower head. I come quick and hard, the water hot, my body hotter.
I lay awake in bed, naked, and despite being bone-tired from a long day, I stay up thinking about how good it would feel to be tangled up in these sheets with Theo.
I wonder how good it would feel to know him.
Chapter Fourteen
Theo
I’m cranky and tired—barely slept a fucking wink last night—but my heart still skips a beat when Nora walks into the restaurant at half past five the next evening.
I wish I could say I got here early because I’m an overachiever. Really, though, I arrived twenty minutes ago so I could have a drink in me before I saw her for the first time since I sat down and shared a meal with her at Honor Bar.
Since I made sure she got home safely.
Since I told her about my mom, and she told me about her parents.
This gin and tonic is not doing what it’s supposed to. I feel painfully nervous—excited—when our gazes meet across the restaurant and she smiles, the kind of smile that touches her eyes and has me fantasizing about kissing her mouth. I want to feel that smile. Explore it. Make it grow with my fingers between her legs and my teeth sunk into her neck.