Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
“Red stands out. It’s all photographical. Trust me, okay?”
I sigh. “This is ridiculous.”
“Oh for fuck sake, Liv! You have a beautiful smile. Stop being a stroppy bitch and smile at me!”
Stroppy! Oh my god. I have a new favorite word! I laugh. Seriously—I love Britspeak. I love it even more when it comes from Tyler. Damn. Tyler and love in the same sentence just…sounds so right and feels so right but is so wrong.
Wait, what’s that ache in my neck? Oh, that’s just the fucking whiplash I’m giving myself yet again.
“I love your smile,” he says, breaking through the terse silence in my mind.
“My smile is goofy.”
“I love your goofy smile,” he corrects, smiling himself. “It’s infectious.”
“Funny. I think that about you sometimes.”
I point the umbrella to the ground and twirl with it. Sometimes, being spontaneous is the only way to go. I glance up from my puddle-splashing and spinning. Tyler’s watching me through his camera, his finger clicking.
I skip toward him, not caring about the rain cascading down my face, and roll with my spontaneous moment. I drop the umbrella at the same time that he lets the camera fall and jump up on him. My legs go around his waist, his hands cup my ass, my fingers tangle in his hair, and I kiss him.
I kiss him hard. I kiss him deep. I kiss him with my fears and anxieties and my hopes and dreams. I kiss him with everything I have and everything I am right in this moment, because sometimes, that’s all you can do.
His umbrella falls to the ground next to mine with a clunk, and I arch my body over his. I don’t care that there are people around. I don’t care that it’s pouring rain and we’re both getting soaked. All I care about is this sexy, intriguing, tempting man and the way he consumes me so completely with his kiss.
All I care about is the fact that this kiss is either the end of something wonderful or the beginning of something magical.
“You should do that more often,” he murmurs, lowering me to the ground.
“You wanted me to smile. Here it is.” I run my fingers through to the end of his hair and allow my lips to spread and curve the way they want to. He places his hand on the camera, but I cover it with my own. “No,” I whisper. “This smile is for you. Just you.”
He takes his hand from under mine, conflicting emotions in his eyes, and cups my cheek. “I love the just-for-me smiles more than I love your normal smiles. Can I get them on a regular basis?”
I turn my face into his hand and kiss him palm. “I don’t know if I have a choice about that.”
“I don’t want you to have a choice.” He draws me closer to him. “I want your only choice to be me. No matter what happened before. And here, right now, this is the perfect time to make your choice. It’s a world away from everything you’re holding back because of. Promise me that, when we get home, you’ll tell me if it’s all or nothing.”
I close my eyes. I want it all as much as I want nothing. But right now, I want the all a little more.
“I promise. You, Tyler Stone, have three days to convince me why I should set every one of my fears aside and give you every part of me.”
“Are you challenging me, Miss Warren? Because you know how I take a challenge.”
“I’m challenging you. I challenge you to give me one good reason why I should take a chance on you.”
“Challenge accepted. I hope your heart—and your knickers—are ready for it.”
I open my eyes and stare straight into his. They’re dark and determined, hard and forceful, scheming, devious. I lay my hand at his waist and step farther into him. He grabs an umbrella and holds it over us ridiculously.
My heart and my knickers might be ready. I’m undecided if I am though. Still, I say, “I’m ready, Ty. Give me your best shot.”
Dayton sips her wine slowly. “A boat ride? That’s his idea of romanticizing you?”
“A boat ride with dinner,” I correct her like it’ll make a difference. I’m not really a boat person.
“Okay. But a boat? You hate boats.”
“I don’t hate boats. I simply have a strong dislike for anything that bobs in water.”
“Tell that to the salmon you ate for lunch.”
“Semantics.” I wave my hand and pick up my glass. “A boat. I feel sick thinking about it.”
“So tell him,” she says with a ‘duh’ face.
“No! He already paid for it and stuff. How awful would that make me?”
“Not as awful as you’d be vomiting everywhere with seasickness.”
My stomach turns. “Ugh. Don’t!”
“Don’t what?” Tyler asks, sitting on the chair next to me.