Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“That’s what you’re wearing under the dress?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse in my own ears.
She meets my eyes. “It’s either that or nothing.”
Oh, fuck no. I turn around as fast as I can and walk out of the closet with a raging hard-on. We don’t have time for this right now.
CHAPTER 41
LYLA
We haven’t spoken a word since our interaction in the closet. It’s a strangely comfortable silence. As comfortable as pent-up sexual tension between two people who have been apart for three years can be, anyway. When I walked out of the closet wearing my dress, he looked like he wanted to punch someone. When he walked out wearing his tailored black suit, I wanted to punch him. We stood for a full minute, checking each other out. Neither of us said a word, but when our eyes met, I knew the fire in mine matched his. Somehow, we made it downstairs without mauling each other — probably because we haven’t spoken. I think if he would have even said “push the button” to me in the elevator, I would have jumped on him.
We’ve only been in the SUV for about five minutes, and we left a huge space between us. With the amount of heated sideways glances we’ve shared, I know I’m not the only one trying not to think about fucking right here in front of Ronnie. Fuck, that might be kind of hot. I shake the thought away fast and think about what a difference one day makes.
I’m choosing not to be angry about the Fairview courthouse thing. He corrected that mistake before he even made it, so I can’t really hold it against him. I still wish he would have gone about this differently. I understand that he was upset at me, but that doesn’t really excuse his behavior. I glance over and my heart dips when I find his hooded eyes on my cleavage.
“Can you play some music, please?” I ask finally. I need to distract myself somehow.
“Of course.” Ronnie looks at me through the rearview. “What would you like to hear?”
“Honestly, I don’t care. Anything.”
“Maybe you should pick,” Lach says next to me. “She has awful taste in music.”
“Excuse me, I like a wide variety of music,” I say, shooting him a look.
“Can’t argue there. You have the wardrobe to prove it,” he says, the edges of his mouth tugging.
We stare at each other for a moment — his eyes burning, my stomach somersaulting, before I look away quickly again. It’s going to be a long night. Ronnie turns the radio to the first station they have on, and a Drake song fills the space. I’m happy for a quarter of a second, until I realize it’s a song about lacking communication and how beautiful things could be if this time would be different.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.
I look at Lachlan again and we share a laugh. It’s not even a new song, so I don’t know why they’re playing it. I don’t want to be a pain in the ass and ask Ronnie to change it. I wish I could telepathically fast-forward. Oh my God. Each verse makes me more uncomfortable than the previous one. I feel like I’m being emotionally attacked by a rap artist. I bet someone’s already tried to sue him for that.
Two upbeat songs later, we arrive at a gated house. I’m not sure you can even call this a house. It looks like a hotel. The front lawn looks like it could easily be the length of two football fields and the width of, I don’t know what, but it’s enormous. And the house itself? There are mansions and then there are mansions. I grew up in an extravagant home, and have been to plenty more. I’ve never seen anything like this, though, and I’ve seen some shit. I swear it takes two whole minutes to drive up to the estate.
When we reach it, Ronnie opens my door first. I step out and look around, taking it all in. Even if we’d had the money to afford such a place when I was growing up, I couldn’t imagine living like this. My parents were pretty mindful about money. From a young age, I was taught that not everyone was as fortunate to have what we had, and that we shouldn’t go around flashing our privilege. This isn’t flashing; this is floodlighting. I try not to think about it. Not my money, not my problem. I repeat the mantra a few more times.
“Impressive, right?” Lach walks up to me as I finish looking around.
I meet his eyes. “I hate it.”
He laughs, and it’s such a real, uncontrolled laugh that I smile wide, and I’m still smiling when I turn toward the steps that lead to the estate. I’m already by the door when he catches up and reaches for my hand. I look into his eyes as I let him take it, and we thread our fingers together, feeling that instant flutter in my chest that I get when he touches me. I’ve always marveled at the way his touch can both turn me on and bring me comfort. Right now, it’s doing both.