Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
My heart did a little flutter. “Okay.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “And to answer the last part of your question, you’ve been deprived, sweetheart. I don’t know much about douche boy, except that he was planning on using you and doesn’t like to go down on a woman who clearly enjoys it. And those two things are enough to tell me the dickhead is selfish, and yeah…he wasn’t good in bed at all. So you were deprived. Easy to please after that idiot.”
Bennett got up from the bed, and for the first time, I got a good look at his naked body from head to toe. His shoulders were broad and thick, his muscular arms sculpted even without flexing, and he had more like an eight-pack than a six. And I finally got a good look at the tattoo I’d seen peeking out that day in the office—IV II MMXI with a dark vine snaking around the letters. I knew the Roman numeral I translated to one and V was five, so five minus one would be the fourth month—April 2nd eight years ago. Obviously the date was important if he had it permanently inked on his body.
Bennett turned and picked up the bowl of pasta we’d shared, and I spotted a long scar running down the left side of his abdomen. It ran from under his ribcage to just below his belly button. His skin was naturally tanned, so I almost didn’t notice it.
“I need a drink,” he said, completely oblivious to my following what felt like a trail of clues all over his body. “You want a water or soda or something? Wine, maybe?”
“I’d love a water. Thank you.”
I guzzled half the bottle when he returned. All that heavy breathing must’ve dried out my throat. We hadn’t spoken about sleeping arrangements, so I hadn’t brought any clothes. And I’d been up late last night helping my mom clean up after the party, and then up early this morning to get on the road for her deliveries. Apparently, my mind and body were in sync, because I yawned.
“I should probably get going soon.”
Bennett had one hand behind his head, casually lying in bed as if he were fully clothed rather than stark naked with everything on display. He reached out with his free hand and pulled me over to him, positioning my head on his chest. “Stay over. I know you’re probably tired. I promise to let you sleep. But we can shower together in the morning.”
I smiled with my cheek against his breastbone. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“You’re not going to ever need any here.” He stroked my hair. “In fact, I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet you’ll mostly be naked when we’re at my place.”
“I meant for work tomorrow.”
“I can take you home now to pick something up, if you want. Or if not, go home early tomorrow morning and get dressed for the office. I’ll go for a run while you do that so you don’t feel like I have an unfair advantage getting to the office before you.”
My head wanted to argue. It would probably be best if we just fooled around and didn’t start slumber parties. But my body was in total disagreement.
“I guess I could do that—stop at my house in the morning, I mean.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll set the alarm extra early for a nice, long shower.”
My body started to relax, and his seemed to, too. I’d been scraping my fingers along the smattering of hair on his chest, and I started to trace the scar on his abdomen. Bennett’s muscles tensed when he realized what I was doing.
I tilted my head to look up at him. “Is this from your accident?”
He nodded. “My spleen was removed. Ruptured from impact.”
“Wow. That must’ve been some accident.”
The muscle in his jaw flexed. “Yeah.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-two.”
I leaned my head down and kissed the scar, intending to trail a line of kisses from top to bottom. But Bennett’s curt voice stopped me.
“Don’t.”
I froze. “Okay.”
Settling my head back on his chest, I suddenly felt really awkward.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just thinking of something my grandmother used to say. ‘Scars are the maps to the story of where we’ve been.’”
He stayed quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Not every scar leads to a story with a happy ending, Annalise.”
“Okay,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”
For the next hour or so, neither of us said a word. I wondered if he regretted asking me to stay. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t fall asleep. I thought it might be better if I just went home. But if he’d fallen asleep, I didn’t want to wake him.
“Bennett?” I whispered.
He didn’t respond, so I carefully pulled back the covers and tried my best not to make the bed jiggle around so he wouldn’t wake. I’d gotten as far as sitting up when his voice startled me.