Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Serena’s brows scrunch together when she shifts her attention to me.
“Well, we’re good at keeping secrets. Aren’t we, doll face?” I wink at her.
She’s going to kill me. My balls have already started their retreat to safety.
“So … good.” Serena finally manages two words.
“Well, get dressed.” Mom kisses her cheek. “I’ll change out of my travel clothes and start dinner.” Mom heads toward Emily’s old bedroom while Serena murders me with one look.
The bad kind of murder that involves slow torture.
“Give me a sec,” I manage to say past the tight grip of death around my neck. I’ve never seen someone go so long without blinking. She’s going to need some eyedrops. This house is rather dry in the winter.
By the time I deposit my mom’s belongings in Emily’s room, Serena is gone. The creaky stairs don’t allow me to sneak up on her, which makes her condition quite shocking.
She’s naked.
This is worth repeating. She’s. Naked.
Granted, her back is to me.
Granted, she’s in the process of stepping into a pair of polka dot underwear.
Granted, I should have asked if it was okay to come up here.
But … she had to have heard me.
“Why the look, boyfriend?” Serena shakes me from my thoughts.
I tear my gaze away from her body and focus on her eyes. “It’s not like I was planning on this. You knew I went to get my mom from the airport. Why the hell did you wait until the last minute to take a shower? A noisy shower at that. Jeez … could you have been any louder? What was I supposed to tell my mom?”
“It was the shampoo bottle. Then my conditioner. And I fell asleep after you left, so when I woke, I didn’t have much time. But I needed a shower.”
She’s speaking, but I’m too focused on her tits, taking a quick mental picture of them before she pulls a fluffy pink sweater over her wet head.
“Shower,” I mumble. “Got it.” While she steps into a pair of light blue jeans, I mosey toward the antique desk in front of the window. My attention shifts from the overcast December day to her desk littered with pens, highlighters, a keyboard, and an open notebook. “What is this?”
“It’s nothing. And it’s personal. And mine. So please give it back.” Serena reaches for the notebook when I snag it from her desk.
I turn in a slow circle, using my height and wingspan to keep her from taking it. She’s like a dog jumping for a toy being dangled just out of her reach. “Hermann Bechtel? Why is my great grandfather’s name in your notebook?”
She nabs it, but it’s too late to erase what I’ve seen. “Because …” She hugs the notebook while I inspect her, void of all trust. She’s a slippery creature. I thought I was the one in control … taking advantage of her mistake. Am I wrong?
“He built this house for my great grandmother, Afina.”
“Your …” My thoughts trip over themselves. “Are you a cousin or something? I hope not. I’ve had a few inappropriate thoughts that I would never have about a cousin. I don’t get it. My great grandmother’s name was Marian not Afina. What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She closes the notebook and shoves it into the middle desk drawer.
“What’s your play?”
She crosses her arms. “My play?”
“Yeah. You’ve been entirely too agreeable about all of this. You’re asking about hidden spots in the house. My great grandfather’s name is in your notebook. You’ve been relentlessly flirting with me. You’re obviously confused about the history of this house. I’ve seen you naked, which makes me think we might have sex. But now I think we might be related, so my mind is thoroughly fucked at the moment.” My thoughts don’t come out in order. I must have hit the shuffle button on my brain before I spoke.
Filter off.
Play shuffle.
Serena scoffs. “We’re not having sex, Henry.” She blushes and averts her gaze when she says it. “Your family has spent generations memorializing a house and the man who built it when it’s all been nothing but a glimpse of a tragic love story.” Her dark eyes meet mine again, but the blush remains. “Why do you think it’s called the Afina house?”
I blink several times. My dick has entered the conversation making it hard (pun a little intended) for me to focus on anything but her pink cheeks and the way she keeps wetting her lips. “The house is blue. Afina is blue in Romanian.”
“Albastru is blue.”
“How do you know?”
She rolls her eyes. “I have family from Romania.”
“So you’re asking me to believe that this house was named after your great grandmother who was not my great grandmother?”
“I’m not asking you to believe anything. I’m just stating facts.”