Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He played with one of the curls, twirling it in his hand. “That is tragic.”
“That’s my life,” I whispered back, reaching to toy with the medallion around his neck.
“My mom gave me this before I left, that and a wedding ring. The medallion for luck with you. The ring is also an heirloom, to bring many children.”
I sucked in air. “What?”
He laughed and kissed the top of my forehead. “I am not going to rush you, or what is going on between us, I promise. Only when you are comfortable with everything will we talk about it more.”
“But every day you are here, you are away from your father.” Only people who had lost their fathers understood how much time they had wasted. How much they could have said, could have done, how much everything meant.
“His memory is still fading, but he will still be there—”
“I can see it in your eyes—don’t,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over my lips. “Don’t worry about anyone else or anything else but yourself and what you want, Odette. Don’t burden yourself with my issues yet.”
The way he spoke, how I felt when I was with him right now...it was all really nice. Wonderfully nice.
“I want to kiss you again,” he said gently.
“Then kiss me again.”
And so, he did.
NOVEMBER 15
What is happening?
Where have the days gone? They passed so quickly I did not even have time to write. I am shocked by the date. It is as if I lost all sense of time because of her...because of Odette.
What is this feeling? How does it feel as if I have made love to her with a single kiss?
Why does she cause me to feel intoxicated simply by being near me? Right now, as she sleeps soundly, it is as if I am drunk. Drunk off the sight of her. Drunk off the sound of her breathing.
What is this?
Last night, we kissed and talked and kissed and talked...until we had nothing left to say. All further communication was between her lips and my lips. She wanted me, and I wanted her. And yet...I couldn’t.
I, fiend, the seducer of women, the playboy, had a woman in my arms I wanted desperately...and instead of giving in to that lust, I held on to her and did nothing but kiss her until we both fell asleep.
What in God’s name is wrong with me?
“Gale,” she muttered in her sleep, and I paused, looking down at her as she moved closer to me. I’d never shared a bed with a woman and only ever just slept before, but this was now the second time. I watched as one of her eyes opened and she tried to wake up.
“What time is it?”
“Three in the morning,” I answered as she groaned in annoyance.
“Why in the world are you still up?” she muttered, flipping onto her side.
Because you are taking up all my thoughts. I smiled, putting my journal down and lying beside her. It was also funny how she did not seem to react to the fact that we were in bed together...again. Maybe she was too tired to realize. I, however, was acutely aware of it and was not sure of how I was supposed to lay. As if she had heard me, she flipped back over, tossing her leg slightly over my thigh.
“Is this fun for you?” I whispered, but she was still asleep. The heat of her body next to mine was a new kind of torture for me. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t manage to. My mind was racing too much. I found myself wondering all sorts of things, like how badly I wished I didn’t stop us last night. Why had I? I had no idea. I’d never just kissed a woman—only just kiss her and sleep—but that was apparently what I’d done last night.
I also found myself wondering if this was how it was going to be for the rest of our lives. Us drinking wine, laughing, going to dinners, coming back to kiss, and to lie in bed together. Would she always curl up beside me? Would I always be tempted? How many nights would I be up amazed at whatever I was amazed at, writing in journals as the days passed blissfully?
If it was, I think I liked it.
I think I liked it a lot.
Chapter 21
“No,” he said flatly, an answer I was getting far too used to hearing.
“Iskandar, I can’t date someone from the confines of this one apartment!”
“You have been doing well so far.”
“You cannot be serious!”
He lifted his phone to me so I could see it, and I half expected Arty to be on the line, waiting to lecture me as well. But instead, it was a newspaper from back home. The headline reading, “Where is Prince Galahad?” They had even chosen to use a very large, very unflattering photo of me slightly drunk from almost two years ago because nothing was ever in the past with these people.