Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
The coolest feature of the lodge by far, however, was the control panel Malachi showed her in the bedroom. With a press of a button, every tall window that made up the rear wall of the bedroom frosted to block out prying eyes from the river.
“I am scared to ask how much this place must have cost him,” Gracen said as she tossed her overnight bag onto the maroon leather loveseat facing a smaller fireplace framed by a stone and mortar mantle.
Malachi chuckled, pressing a second button that frosted the lower half but left the upper portion of glass clear to view the night sky. “To be honest, I don’t think he’d say. Not Chip’s style, you know what I mean?”
“I bet I could still ballpark it.”
And her guess was closer to seven figures than six.
“Give it a shot with him tomorrow, but wait until he’s downed a beer or two.”
Gracen would keep it in mind.
Malachi allowed Gracen her silence and space to admire the decent sized bedroom decorated with log furniture from the bed frame to the coffee and bedside tables with oval glass tops. The same hardwood floors and light fixtures accented the space including the en-suite bathroom and connected walk-in closet.
“I will be using that tub,” Gracen called out to Malachi from the bathroom.
It, too, had a vintage clawfoot tub made of iron. No doubt, it would take the better part of an hour to fill the damn thing, but the wait would be worth it.
“It’s big enough for two,” he told her when she exited the bathroom.
Even winked, too.
Two could play that game.
“Well, we’re already sharing a bed this weekend,” Gracen said, tossing him a sly smile, “so why not toss in a bath with it, too, right?”
Malachi shifted in his combat boots where he leaned against the fireplace mantle with his arms crossed over his plaid-covered chest. His expression didn’t flicker to say her suggestion hit its mark, but it didn’t need to. She saw it in his eyes.
How he looked at her ...
It made her chest tight in the best way.
“Are you tired?” Malachi asked. “It’s late, and you had a long drive.”
Gracen nibbled on her bottom lip, chasing away the butterflies in her belly with the sting of pain when she bit down harder than necessary. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re also getting into bed.”
Chapter 19
Malachi had never been one for morning sex. Mostly because he tried not to stay long enough in a woman’s bed to see the sun rise the next day—or rather, he hadn’t in a long time. His mornings typically included dragging his ass into a barely warm shower to wake up, and early work hours that didn’t allow for a lot of down time.
His mornings weren’t great.
He didn’t look forward to them.
Gracen made him want a hundred more mornings with her just as the sight of her sweet smile from the pillow next to his while the sun crawled high over the river in the sky. He couldn’t help it. The girl looked like an angel in slate gray sheets, still naked from the night before, with hair mussed into a halo around her head.
Malachi didn’t believe in perfection. That shit truly was a myth especially when a person dedicated so much of their life and time to reaching an unattainable goal. Instead, the next bar got placed, and again when the new goal was just beyond reach. Perfection looked different for everybody, and anybody could change the spec.
If there was perfection—if he’d ever come close to finding it—Malachi would say it was Gracen Briggs waking up in the morning. Sunshine on her face, blue eyes sleepy but clear, and her soft good morning drifting across the bed in a raspy whisper.
She smelled like his crisp body wash, a love bite darkened the spot above the hollow of her throat, and the first thing she looked for when she opened her eyes in that bed was him. Like she hadn’t forgotten that he was there, and she would want to see him the second she woke up. The same way she reached for him under the sheets, deep in her sleep, and only settled once she was tucked in against him.
That seemed perfect.
Or damn close to it.
He blamed how he felt on the fact that time and distance had allowed him unlimited hours to think about the woman he’d met in his hometown. A whole soul who had existed right alongside his own for years, but somehow, their paths had never crossed. He didn’t particularly believe in things like fate or karma—the universe didn’t work that way for him.
It also didn’t make the phenomenon any less real. Just because he’d never experienced it, yet, didn’t mean he wouldn’t someday.
God and the bible?
That was all bullshit. Religious babble that had been shoved down his throat time and time again, but in the end, meant nothing because it hadn’t done anything for him. At least, nothing good.