Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I can see that,” I tell her.
“You were such a fucking asshole,” she says. Her tone is steady, but her eyes, they flash with anger I hadn’t counted on.
“I know I was. And I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” she says snidely. “You slept with me and then practically kicked me out of your bed. I couldn’t leave fast enough for you. And then after that, you avoided me like I had the plague. You made me feel like shit, James.”
Her words are a knife to the stomach. Oh, I know it’s all my fault. I know that I acted like a total wanker the moment she told me she was falling for me, the moment the fear of god came alive. I know she deserved better than that, so much better, and that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I just never told her that. I had the chance, but I chose to be selfish and keep it to myself, because to tell her would mean making myself vulnerable, and I wasn’t ready for that.
I’m still not sure that I am. Which is another reason I should stop trying so hard with her, because deep down inside, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to handle what I get. People change, but inner demons—well, sometimes those things just grow.
But it’s as I’m abruptly letting go of her face that my arm comes down and smacks the top of my wineglass. It topples over, splashing the entire glass of sangiovese onto my lap and her chest.
“Fuck!” I swear, trying to scoot back in the seat.
We both get to our feet as a waiter hurries over, shaking his head at the mess. He motions to the bartender for something to clean it up with. Meanwhile the whole bar is watching us.
I give them all a wave to say, Yes, hello, wine was spilled, carry on, then both Laila and I head down through the restaurant to the bathroom, with her grumbling the entire way.
Of course, in a tiny place like this, there are only two bathrooms, and one is occupied.
“After you,” I say, gesturing to the available one.
She just rolls her eyes and steps in, holding the door open. “Come on.”
I step inside with her. The bathroom is the size of a postage stamp. And then I get a good look at the damage.
Yup, looks like I pissed my pants. Thank god they’re black and you have to look closely.
On her red sweater, the wine just looks like an artful stain, though her nipples are poking through now. Very, very distracting.
“That was probably the clumsiest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” she says, pulling out wads of paper towel and running them under the tap. “Almost made you seem like a mere mortal.”
I can’t help but grin. “You’re telling me I’m godly?”
She lets out a soft snort and eyes me in the bathroom mirror. “You’re something, I’ll give you that much. You have the ego of a god, no denying that.”
“Pretty sure you called me a god once or twice,” I tell her as she dabs the towel on her chest. “You know you might as well take that right off.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. I would. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
“I’m good,” she says quickly as she shoots me a glare, dabbing again and again until her shirt is pretty much see-through.
Fucking hell, it’s a turn-on. My dick is already pressing against my pants, not even caring that they’re soaked with wine.
Finally she sighs and then mumbles something to herself in Norwegian.
The sweater comes off, leaving her in just a white lacy bra that looks a little small for her and is stained with red.
“Jesus,” I swear. Her breasts are making my mouth water.
She gives me a sharp look, pressing the towel across her chest to cover herself up. “You’re making this weird.” Then her gaze drops to my very obvious erection. Her mouth parts slightly before she swallows. “Now you’re making this really weird.”
I’m about to make it weirder. I answer by undoing my belt, letting my pants drop to the floor so that I’m just in my black boxer briefs. I step out of them and gather them in my hands. “Just doing what you did,” I tell her. “Easy to wash this way.”
I step right up to her at the sink, watching as she gets flustered, cheeks going pink.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love making you blush?” I ask, my voice going low. “Did you blush this morning?”
My question makes her pause, and I know now she heard me this morning for sure.
She glances up at me through her lashes, her eyes simmering with anger and something else. I want to say it’s lust, but I can’t be sure. There’s a good chance she’s about to slap me across the face.