Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 39930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Yeah, the glass of wine had definitely been a bad idea.
“Thank you.” Those two words came out all breathy and needy, and she cursed herself for how ridiculous she probably sounded. It took him a moment, but he released her arm. She rubbed the spot, as if she could ease the heat he had left behind.
His gaze went to the spot where she ran her hand up and down, and a frown marred his face. He turned and rested his forearms on the banister, staring out at Sintra.
After several long minutes of silence, he finally spoke. “Did you know Christopher Columbus sailed from Sintra to the port of Lisbon?”
Stellan turned his head and looked at her. The light from the city cast a gentle, yellowish glow around him. Shaking her head, she moved closer to him but made sure to keep a safe distance. The last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself again.
“In the late fourteen hundreds, it is said he sailed for the Spanish crown but was blown off course by winds. Of course, he worried for his ship, and when he saw Sintra, he had no choice but to seek safety in the small town.” Stellan continued to tell her the history, and she found herself enamored by his storytelling and captivating voice.
Blythe grew more at ease in his presence and even found the nerve to ask some personal questions.
“Did you miss Portugal when you lived in New York? I know your father’s family lives here.” He was quiet for several long moments, and she watched as a muscle in his jaw ticked. Had she said something wrong? “I’m sorry. That is so not my business. I apologize.”
The awkwardness and the tension started to surround her. She needed to get out of here and grab another glass of wine. Pushing off the banister, Blythe turned to leave.
“I better get back to Mr. Moore and see if he needs anything.” Before she made it three steps, Stellan reached out and snagged her hand. Blythe looked at where he touched her then at his face.
“You didn’t ask anything wrong, querida. I just didn’t have the best relationship with my father, and thinking about him makes me remember what an asshole he was.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand.
He pulled her closer, inch by slow inch until their chests almost touched. She could see in her peripheral vision as he lifted his hand toward her face.
“He was just an absent father who cared more for his company than he did for his own child.” The pain was laced within his words, and she felt something inside of her chest break for him. She knew all too well about absent fathers.
Then everything else faded away when his palm landed lightly on her cheek. Her lips parted, and he must have taken that as an invitation because he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
“You feel so soft, Blythe.” Just hearing him say her name was like an auditory orgasm.
His gaze was locked on her mouth, but when he slowly dragged his eyes up to hers, she held her breath. All he did was watch her and run his thumb over her lips, back and forth, back and forth. It had a drugging quality to it.
After a prolonged moment, he dropped his hand from her face, but he wasn’t nearly done touching her it seemed. His big hand landed on her lower back, and in the next instant, he pulled her forward until they were pressed chest-to-chest.
His erection was hard and very prominent as it pressed into her belly.
Closing her eyes, Blythe needed to get control of the situation. “How did you know I was up here?” Why in the hell she decided to ask that question at this exact moment was beyond her.
Maybe subconsciously she was trying to deflect the situation?
He murmured, “There are cameras littered throughout the mansion. Frederique thought you might have been lost and let me know.”
“Oh.” That was the only word she seemed to be able to say coherently. The heat of him seeped into her, and she gasped when he ground his erection into her. God, he was certainly big, everywhere.
“I’m going to kiss you, querida.” His words were commanding and final, low and heated, and what she should have said was no, that this was a very bad idea, but words failed her. A smirk crossed his face, and he started to lower his head.
At the last minute, common sense slammed into her. A hand on his chest stopped him.
“Wait.” One of his dark brows cocked in question. “This isn’t a good idea.” Even she could hear how empty her words were.
“Darling, I think this is one of the best fucking ideas I’ve had in a while.” He lowered his head further, and she pressed her palm harder on his chest. Even through the material, she felt his defined muscles.