Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I pick up the plate and head for my king’s office to have my afternoon snack with him and maybe take a little nap on his sofa—something I do pretty often. But I stop when I see a man around my age waiting outside his door. He looks a little out of place. Most people coming to Karim’s office are in some kind of suit, but he’s in jeans and a polo shirt. I glance at the guard standing outside the door, and he gives me a small nod, letting me know it’s okay to talk to the man.
“Hi,” I greet him, offering a friendly smile.
“My queen.” He bows his head a little. Being called that still feels weird even after all these years.
“Please call me Giselle,” I tell him, like I do most people. “Are you waiting for my husband?” I ask, hoping he isn’t. I wanted to lie down in his office for a little bit and eat my snack while the boys slept. We don’t get alone time much, and we like to enjoy it. I always come at the same time every day if he’s working, and he never schedules anything during that time, so I’m a little surprised.
“I just needed to drop something off,” he tells me, and I nod.
“Would you like a pastry?” I hold the plate out to him, but before I even see him, my husband is taking the plate from my hand and out of the other man’s reach.
“Steven,” Karim half-growls, and I roll my eyes, reaching for my plate again.
“Don’t take my food,” I snap at him, drawing his eyes back to me as a smile pulls at his lips. I narrow my eyes at him, but this only makes him smile more. He leans down, pressing his lips against mine in a soft kiss, and I go weak like I always do for him.
“Come on, I’ll bring the plate in and feed you,” he tells me, nodding towards his office door.
I lick my lips, still tasting him there, and go into his office. I don’t even make it halfway in and he’s already behind me, a sheet of paper in hand, his office door closed and the plate in another. He sets the paper down on the desk and pulls me over towards the sofa.
“Lie down.”
I do as he commands, wanting to be off my feet. He takes one of the pastries and feeds it to me, then hands me another. I moan around it as he takes a seat at the other end of the sofa, pulling my feet into his lap and sliding my shoes off my feet. He starts to rub them. I don’t know why, but the edge of bossiness he still has does things to me. It should annoy me, but it only seems to turn me on, and I think he knows it. That could also be because whenever he bosses me around it always ends with me being happy somehow.
“I’m only four months along and they are already swollen,” I groan as his fingers sink into my feet. I don’t know what’s better, the pastry or the foot rub. Thank goodness I don’t have to pick and can enjoy both.
“You’re carrying twins this time.” He stops rubbing for a moment and brings his palm up to my belly. “Two little boys at once.”
“Girls,” I correct, making him narrow his eyes. “It is,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
He lets out a deep breath, knowing I’m likely right. I guessed the two boys right when he was sure they were going to be girls. We never ask when we go to the sonograms. I love the surprise, and Karim lets me have it, no matter how much it drives him crazy not knowing.
“We should name them Lily and Anne,” I tell him. He stops rubbing and looks at me. “They are both pretty names and, well, we had your dad’s name mixed in with the boys’ names, so…” I know how much he loves his mom and misses her. I wish I could have met his parents; they sound wonderful. At least our children will always have a part of them with them, because I know from the stories they would have been wonderful grandparents.
“I’d like that very much.” He gives me a hard little squeeze and resumes rubbing.
I pop another pastry in my mouth and go back to enjoying my utter bliss. When I look over, I see the paper he brought in lying on his desk.
“What did the man you scared off bring you?”
“He should’ve been scared, taking a pastry my wife made from her plate.”
I roll my eyes again like I always do when his jealousy starts sparking. He makes it sound like the man tried to take something more than food.
He tickles my foot and makes me giggle. “Remember the crème brûlée we had the first night in Paris?”