Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“That can stay at the top. This is not embarassin’.”
“I tried to be sexy yet failed.” I was sobbing now, blubbering like a fool with snot running from my nose and everything. “And now I’m crying. Trust me, it’s embarrassing.”
“You did not fail at bein’ sexy,” Rowan grumbled. “You’re sexy by fuckin’ breathing. And I should be getting some kind of medal for resisting you right now.” The way he looked at me stopped the tears. “I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock right now, Nora. I’m gonna go to sleep tonight thinking ’bout what it would be like if I was a slightly worse man. If I was the man who took advantage of the woman he’s been wanting for years when she’s had too much wine, when she’s wearing a bruise another man put there.”
I opened my mouth to argue about that minor detail since Nathan didn’t technically put the bruise there. But Rowan’s finger drifted to my mouth to silence me.
“Not gonna let you defend him, cupcake,” he said softly. “And he’s not gonna be in this moment.” He tucked some hair behind my ear. “This isn’t rejection, Nora. This is me being greedy, wanting you to have all of your faculties... The first time we fuck, at least.” His lips hovered inches from my mouth. “Some time after that, I will gladly watch you drink wine, knowing that I’ll be getting this later.” His hand ghosted down the side of my body in a barely-there touch.
“Now go,” he whispered. “Before I forget every fuckin’ thing I just said.”
The restraints on my rollercoaster creaked, and though part of me wanted them to fail, I held on tight. Meaning I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.
Chapter
Eight
Recipe: Chocolate Buttermilk Cake
From ‘Dessert Person’
I expected him to be asleep when I entered the kitchen. Most everyone in this time zone who didn’t work the night shift somewhere was still asleep before five in the morning. That was part of the magic.
It was usually magic, at least. Not when I’d spent the night tossing and turning, knowing that Rowan was in a bed not three doors down from me. In my house. Beneath my sheets.
Naked.
Well, I couldn’t be sure that he slept naked. But he didn’t come prepared, and I seriously doubted that he was going to sleep in jeans.
So, he was likely wearing underwear.
Or nothing.
I didn’t think he was a briefs type of guy. Maybe boxers. Or at the least boxer briefs. And he definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt. That meant my sheets were going to smell like his torso. The torso that was likely as chiseled as the rest of him.
I had wondered, for the majority of the night, exactly what he was wearing in that guest bedroom. Then I’d wondered what he would be wearing if he weren’t in the guest bedroom. If he wasn’t so fucking honorable and had carried me to my bedroom as I had longed for him to do.
I replayed his words in my head over and over again. There were a lot to replay.
“You’re sexy by fuckin’ breathing.”
“This is me being greedy, wanting you to have all of your faculties… The first time we fuck, at least.”
“If I was the man who took advantage of the woman he’s been wanting for years.”
Years.
He said he’d been wanting me for years. That might’ve taken up more real estate in my head if I were thinking logically. But I wasn’t. I was overcome by desire. Maddened by it.
My need was almost uncontrollable. I was totally preoccupied. Incredibly turned on. I needed a release. Badly. But I didn’t reach into my bedside table for my vibrator, though it was extremely tempting.
I was too worried the gentle hum of the vibrator would carry, then he’d hear me. Which was impossible, really. The low hum would have to carry through my comforter, my closed door, down the hall and through his closed door. Every wall in this house had been reinsulated. I’d seen to it myself. Noise didn’t carry the way it used to in old houses.
I could quite easily have given myself the relief my body sorely needed, and Rowan would’ve been none the wiser.
Except I hadn’t. For whatever reason.
So, I had barely slept. And although I’d showered and put on clothes for the day, I was no less awake.
My goal was coffee. A lot of it.
Because I had a one-track mind, and I was pretty much a zombie when I descended the stairs, I didn’t notice that the kitchen lights were on, and the aroma of coffee beans was filtering through the air.
Not until I walked into the kitchen.
And saw Rowan.
Not asleep.
And unfortunately, not naked. He was dressed in the same clothes from last night, sans baseball cap. I’d never seen him without his baseball cap, except when he took it off at the counter, but I’d never let myself look then. And he always put it back on quickly.