Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Do you want a glass of wine?”
“Ummm…”
His brows dipped together. “Do you have to go back downstairs?”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
“Are you too full for wine?”
“I’m never too full for wine.”
He frowned. “I thought we were past you refraining because I don’t drink.”
I smiled. “Oh, that’s not it. I’m over that. I was just thinking maybe I should keep a clear head for our discussion.”
Weston turned back to the bar, took out a bottle of wine, and poured me a glass full to the brim. Passing it to me, he said, “Here. My head is far from clear. This will put us on even ground.”
I sipped my wine as we looked at each other. I sat at the end of the couch, and he sat across from me in the chair.
“This is new to me, Soph. You may need to show me how it’s done.”
“What? Talking about a relationship?”
He shook his head. “Talking about feelings in general. It’s been a long time since I even had any, much less discussed them. The ones I did have weren’t exactly good, and I did my best to drown them with alcohol.”
I set my wine on the table and took one of his hands into mine. “Well, how about this… Let’s pretend for a minute that you’re not a Lockwood, and I’m not a Sterling. We’re just two people who work together, and one of us is going to be laid off in a few days. What do you want from me after that happens?”
Weston stared off for a few minutes. Toward the end, a smile crept onto his face. “I just realized one of us is going to be pissed. Really pissed.”
“And the idea of one of us being let down and disappointed made you smile? I think you really are rusty on how these emotional things are supposed to work.”
He shrugged. “True. But I smiled because I realized it’s been a while since we had a good, angry fuck.”
I chuckled. “And what about beyond that? What do you want?”
Weston looked down for a long time. Eventually, he shook his head. “I want it all.”
My pulse sped up, but I was afraid to get ahead of myself. “Elaborate,” I said. “What does ‘I want it all’ mean?”
He took my hand and raised it to his mouth, kissing the top of my knuckles. Looking into my eyes, he took a deep breath. “It means I want to start my day the same way I end it every day—in your bed. Or my bed. Whatever. As long as I’m inside of you. You’ll tell me all the boring shit you plan to do to fill the hours between me kissing you goodbye and kissing you hello, and I’ll listen enough to know when to nod. I want to disagree with you, argue loudly, and then fuck the pissed-off right out of both of us. I want you to go be the badass businesswoman you are during the day, where you’re in charge, and then let me be in charge in the bedroom after. I want to watch you from a distance when you buy your morning coffee and daydream about leaving marks all over your beautiful skin. And I want to read boring Shakespeare so I can poke fun at it, just to hear you laugh.”
I hadn’t blinked the entire time he spoke.
Weston searched my eyes. “How’s that? Did I elaborate enough to make my feelings clear?”
“Wow…yeah…clear.” I shook my head. “I thought you said you weren’t good at this?”
Weston’s lips twitched. “I’m not. This is all new to me. But then again, I’m good at everything.”
I rolled my eyes. “So full of yourself.”
Weston pulled me into his lap. He put one hand on my shoulder and used his thumb to caress my collarbone as he spoke. “Tell me what you want.”
I had so many questions. Where would I live? Where would he live? How would we separate business and our personal life when we were essentially competitors? What would our families say? Was it too soon for me to jump into something new? But the one question I knew the answer to was the one he’d just asked.
“You,” I said. “I want you.”
Weston smiled. “Well, that’s easy. You had me from the very start.”
***
The next morning, we both slept in. Well, if you can call sleeping past six o’clock sleeping in. The sound of a cell phone ringing woke us.
I turned and reached over to my nightstand, only to realize it wasn’t my phone buzzing. It was Weston’s. I gave him a soft nudge. “Hey. That’s yours. It’s pretty early, so it might be important.”
He grumbled something unintelligible and patted over the nightstand without looking. As he found his cell, I could see Missed Call on the screen. He peeked one eye open to type in his password.