Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
She did as he asked, swallowing the medication with half the bottle of water and then laying her head back against the wall with a moan. “Do you think that cactus is vulgar or . . . pretty?” she asked.
He let out a confused laugh when he realized she must be talking about the cactus outside her condo. She was so tired she was practically drunk. “Definitely vulgar,” he said.
She laughed, too, though it was soft and short, more a huff of air. “We used to laugh,” she said. “We used to laugh so much. I’ve never laughed with anyone the way I did with you.”
His throat felt suddenly full. She was right. They had. They’d loved hard, and they’d laughed hard, and looking back, he’d halfway convinced himself it was just the unabashed nature of youth. But that wasn’t true. Neither he nor Sienna had grown up in a way that would have encouraged an attitude of joyful abandon. They’d just brought that out in each other. Her lids drifted closed and her head began falling forward before she jerked it up again, yanking herself from sleep.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand as he began to stand. “Let me help you to bed. Even Superwoman needs to sleep sometimes.”
She let out a small chuff, and for a moment it appeared she was going to argue, but then she sighed, likely deciding she didn’t have the strength to fight him just then. She gripped his hand as he pulled her to her feet. She weaved, letting out a soft whimper and squinting her eye again when she came to her full height.
Shit. A head rush had to make things that much worse. “I’ll leave some more Tylenol on your bedside table,” he said, walking with her down the hall toward the open door at the end.
“I don’t have a bedside table,” she murmured.
Gavin led her to her bedroom, Sienna holding her hand at her head as they walked. “Tell me you at least have a bed.”
“I do,” she said, pushing the door open.
“I’m going to, ah, go get those extra Tylenol and another bottle of water,” he murmured, turning as she reached for the robe lying at the end of the bed.
When he came back with the medication, water, and a cold washcloth, Sienna was already lying in bed, eyes closed, her robe falling open slightly. And he supposed, being that she was exhausted and in pain, it was less than honorable that the sight of the bare swell of one breast was arousing as all hell.
He’d seen women dressed skimpier at the hotel pool. So why did the sight of this woman in a white cotton robe make him feel off-balance? He drank her in, the shape of her body under the thin material causing a physical reaction he could not control. He’d always been so intensely attracted to her, and in one glance he remembered exactly why. It was simple, really. He was a man. He had his preferences, even if he hadn’t ever defined them, and she met every one of them. The shape of her hips, the dip of her waist, even the delicacy of her collarbone and the slope of her shoulders. The way she’d been formed spoke to whatever biological quality that existed inside him to seek out the perfect mate. It was too strong and unchangeable to be anything else.
The thing that separated him from some long-ago Neanderthal, though, was that he also liked her mind. He respected her opinions and her way of looking at life. He enjoyed her sense of humor and her commitment to justice. Simply put: to him she was perfect.
Focus here, Decker. She needs you.
He wouldn’t even think about the “main squeeze” right now or the fact that just the thought of him made jealousy churn in Gavin’s gut.
He set the Tylenol and the bottle of water on a forensic textbook of some kind on the floor next to the bed and then set the cold washcloth gently on her forehead. She sighed but didn’t open her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome,” he said, adjusting the cloth, grateful she was allowing him to help her. What she needed now was sleep, and he should leave her to get some. But he didn’t seem to be able to get up just yet. Didn’t want to leave her when he might be able to offer even a small bit of comfort.
“I have to remind myself not to push too hard,” she said, voice soft as her eyes came open halfway and she looked at him. “It’s a flaw. I know. But I had to. Growing up. If I didn’t . . .”
If you didn’t, no one would. No one would advocate for you, and so you had to advocate for yourself. “I know, Sienna. I know,” he said, moving a piece of hair off her cheek. “And it’s not a flaw.”