Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
For the longest time, he says nothing. So long I think he’s not going to answer. But then he does. “The people around him can be pedantic. They’re used to controlling things.”
“The people around the king?”
“Yes,” he says, his jaw cracking on a yawn. “Sorry. Long day. They called me at two in the fucking morning in a furor about the pictures.”
“Seems excessive. There are photos of you online all the time. Both of us were keeping our hands to ourselves and wearing pants in all the shots.”
He just grunts. Guess he’s not ready to see the humor in the situation. “Their reaction to things can depend on what else is going on at the time. It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“Lilah...” he starts and then falls silent for a while. “If they’re setting up some positive press with, say, a charity visit or whatever and something I do eclipses that reporting, then they have a tendency to get upset.”
I wrinkle my nose in both distaste and confusion. “Are you just not supposed to live your life? Is that what they’re telling you?”
Nothing from him.
What I really want to know is why these people have a say in his life at all. But it’s none of my business and pushing for further answers might push him away.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say. “What do you feel like talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Me neither.”
He stays silent. But I can feel his side of the bed relax some.
“Thanks for explaining the situation to me.”
He just grunts.
The Vampire Diaries is not his thing. That much is obvious when he falls asleep approximately four minutes into the episode. Imagine being able to just go to sleep like that. It usually takes me at least an hour to quiet my mind.
I lower the volume on the TV and listen to the deep and even sound of him breathing. The hard lines of his face soften when he sleeps. It’s a king-size mattress, but still. I am hyperaware of his presence. Of the heat of his big body and the cedar of his cologne. Friends don’t stare at friends while they sleep. It’s bad manners to the extreme. He didn’t affect me in this way when we first met. At least, I don’t think he did. There was a lot going on that day. But now his presence hits me in the heart and the loins, and I don’t know what to do.
“Stop staring at me,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
Wednesday
It takes a moment for me to figure out where I am when I wake up. And then another to understand why I’m so toasty warm. Josh didn’t spoon without cause. Any spooning always preceded an attempt at morning sex. It was fake affection to the extreme. I never found the position comfortable either. Sleeping peacefully requires space. I am not at my best in the a.m. The only thing I usually want first thing in the morning is coffee and quiet. Being conscious is hard-core. But here I am, with a body pressed to my back and an arm thrown over my middle and another under my neck. Alistair is smooshed up against me and I don’t hate it. And what’s more, the hard-on pressing against my butt cheek definitely has me wide-awake and aching in a good way.
“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. “I have to be honest—this is slightly awkward.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re going with denial?”
“Sure, why not? I can ignore it if you can. How did you sleep?”
“Great,” he says with some surprise. “Though I’m not sure you ignoring my dick is a compliment. Let me just state for the record that this situation is not my fault. You’re soft and you smell good. But we’re still not soulmates.”
“You don’t think morning wood means it’s true love?” I press my thighs together oh so subtly. The way he’s making me wet is worrisome. “That’s disappointing. Serious question. Are we actually attempting friendship here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because if there’s a high likelihood you’re going to turn around and tell me you’re busy again and drive off into the distance, then maybe we shouldn’t. That kind of hurt.”
He sighs.
“Also, total honesty here. For a big burly dude, you’re kind of sensitive. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. It makes total sense, given your background and all. But you and your situation are way outside my field of experience, and you have to know I am going to say or do the wrong thing sometimes.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I have.”
“As for you saying or doing the wrong thing sometimes... I’m sure this will shock you, but I’m far from perfect myself.” He stretches his neck and rolls his shoulders. Then he glances back at me. “What’s this? Nothing clever to say?”