Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Thunder shakes the walls, and the windows rattle. I stand up, looking out the window. Rain penetrates the ground, splashing the freshly disturbed dirt onto the flowers.
I cross my arms, feeling suddenly cold.
“So, what should we do now? We have all night.” Heston smiles, now leaning against the kitchen counter. His unbuttoned jeans are slung low on his hips, showing his briefs. His chest is shirtless, allowing every outlined muscle to be admired.
“Food,” I say, walking toward him, my stomach nearly growling.
“Worked up an appetite, did ya?” He scans the length of my body. “Fuck, eat, sleep, repeat? Sounds fun.”
I roll my eyes and lean against him. He wraps his arms around me as if we do this every day. His warm burgundy and pepper scent wraps around me, and I close my eyes, never wanting to move.
“I’m sleepy too,” I mutter into his chest, his chin resting on top of my head.
“Me too. You want me to feed you and then sleep? Or nap first?” I look up at him, smiling. The idea of him taking care of me, as if I’m someone special, makes my heart flip-flop in my chest. I was nervous he’d fly out the door after we did the deed, never to be seen again—until the next time he wanted another taste. Which…I think I would be okay with. Regular sex without a man invading my space? There are worst things.
“Your mom teach you another recipe?”
“Mmm, I can usually throw something together. I’d have to see what you have, but I think I’ll find something.” He looks down at me, waiting for me to accept his offer. Pulling out of his hold, his hand reaches for mine and our fingers link together, as if we have to constantly be touching in some way.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I admit, barely above a whisper. Our eyes lock. Losing my mother has been hard. Without Heston here, filling my time, taking my mind off her, God only knows where I would be. Maybe I do want more than just a booty call.
“Me too,” he mutters, and I wonder if I’m imagining the desperation in his words. I’ve never had someone long to be in my company—not the way Heston seems to. I can’t help but doubt I’m enough to entice such a need in someone. Not even sure what he sees in me.
“I don’t like being alone,” I admit, hoping it will an entice him to tell me why he wants to be here. As if a piece of me longs for him to say the same thing.
“Neither do I. Lately…I haven’t found comfort in anybody’s company but yours.” I’m taken aback by that, my eyes widen for a split second before I mask it with a smile.
“So, you’re saying I’m special?” I say, my attempt at being coy.
“Yeah, special ed.” He pops me in the forehead, and I freeze, surprised he actually did that and then start giggling again. I love that we’re getting more comfortable with each other. When I’m around him, my chest is full, butterflies swarm my stomach, and I smile so much, it hurts my cheeks. But deep down, there’s a pit in my stomach, something dark and bleak, whispering, “This is too good to be true.” I refuse to acknowledge it, burying myself in the here and now.
Heston cooked us up some hamburger and noodles, along with peas and cheese, all in a pot, and it was amazing. Now, we both lie in my bed, waiting for sleep to take us. He’s spooning me from behind, one arm under a pillow, the other thrown over my waist. His breathing is soft and shallow. If I hold really still, I can feel the thumping of his heart. As great as this feels, I can’t sleep. I’m not used to having someone hold me like this, and it makes me wonder if it’s something I could get used to it.
14
I open my eyes. Light spills across the room. The sun is so bright, you would never know how bad the storm was mere hours ago. I blink, clearing the sleep from my eyes, and roll onto my back. Heston yawns, stretching his arms up into the air. His eyes open, casting clear blue irises, similar to the sky outside.
Covering my mouth with my hand, I tell him, “Good morning.”
His brows furrow.
“What are you doing with your hand?” he asks, a laugh on the tip of his tongue.
“I have really bad morning breath.”
He grabs my hand and lowers it into my lap. “I don’t even care.”
“Really?” I take a risk at letting him smell how bad it is, and he shrugs.
“I don’t smell anything.”
Raising a brow, I put my hand across his mouth. “Well, yours smells.”
His eyes widen as he barks out a half laugh in surprise. I chortle, and he rolls me underneath him, tickling my sides. I kick my feet into the hair, my hands slapping and grabbing at him to stop.