Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Almost painfully.
But I bear the pain because he bore it for me.
We did it.
And I can’t help but smile up at the ceiling. I can’t help but sag against him in relief and laziness. But he comes through for me even now. He turns me around until I’m facing him and gently lowers me on the bed.
He settles himself between my thighs, his body all delicious and panting over mine, and once again frames my face with his fingers. Then, urgently, “You okay?”
I study his flush-darkened features and rub the frown between his brows lightly, smiling lazily. “I think I’m more than okay. I think I’m fabulous.”
Even with my words, he has to go ahead and take stock of my features. He has to study my features with his own pretty eyes to make sure I really am okay. And when he sees that I am, a large breath escapes him and he finally, finally sags against me.
Oh, and he hugs me.
He brings his arms around and under my body and presses my curves against his hard planes, tucking his face in the nape of my neck. And my smile widens because I think along with being a cuddler, he’s a hugger too. In fact, I think he’s a major hugger. Remember how he wouldn’t let me go last night even during sex? And tonight too. The entire time we were plastered against each other, every part of me was touching every part of him.
Grinning, I squeeze him to me. “I think you’re a hugger too.”
He mumbles in my neck, “This is not a hug.”
“This is absolutely a hug.”
“I don’t hug.”
“You hug me, though.”
He grunts in response.
I play with the sweaty ends of his hair. “Thanks for sewing my dress.”
Another grunt.
“Did you learn how to sew for your sister?”
He nods.
“Because no one else would learn it?”
He nods again.
I squeeze my arms around him once again tightly. As tightly as my heart is squeezing right now. Then, tilting my head to the side and rubbing my cheek on his heated forehead, “Thanks for the rose.”
He hums.
“I ate it.”
He finally looks up, hair falling over his forehead. “You ate it?”
“Uh-huh.” When he keeps looking at me like I’m crazy, I explain, “That’s why they’re my favorite flowers because you can eat them. Or else pink magnolia would have the top spot.” When he still looks at me like I’m crazy, I explain further, “Hey, it’s better than letting them perish or sticking them in the pages of a book like a lovesick fool. This way those roses are a part of me, my blood.”
Now he looks at me with a different light in his eyes. A fond, indulgent light. And I blush as I continue, “And if you think I’m crazy for eating a rose, you’re even crazier for giving it to me.”
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“Because you gave it to me based on a very fanciful and imaginary incident,” I tell him, sliding my fingers up and down his sweaty back. “You know that, don’t you? You didn’t actually set a rose on fire. It was all in my head.”
“So I guess I’m crazier than you.”
“I guess so.”
“They’re still your favorite flowers, though, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“So then you should get one every day,” he says conclusively before going back to tucking his face in my neck. “And if that gets me the top spot at being crazy then so be it.”
I smile again—because God, he is crazier than me and I love him so, so much—and rub my cheek in his hair. “I unpacked your things.”
He huffs out a breath. “I saw.”
“I think we had sex on your books,” I share next.
Although at no point did I feel anything digging into me or rustling or getting crunched beneath me. So I think his books are safe. But he doesn’t seem to share my worries because all he does is shrug in response.
I bite my lip. “I have to confess something.”
“What?”
“I only unpacked your things because I was snooping.”
Then, cringing my face, I wait for him to get angry. I even expect him to lay into me when he once again untucks his face and looks down at me. “Snooping.”
“Yes.” I nod. “Only because I think you have a deep, dark secret that you won’t tell me about. And so I had to take matters into my own hands.”
And again, I expect him to go tight and angry over my body. Instead, something like amusement flashes through his features. “Good thing I don’t hide it in my suitcase, huh.”
I flicker my eyes over his features. “You’re not mad?”
His chest moves with a breath. “The thing is, Dora, that with you, I think I’m going to have to pick my battles. And I’m dead tired tonight.”
Slowly, I grin and squeeze my limbs around him. “Excellent choice! I totally think you should save this response. Because there are going to be a lot of battles for you in the future.”