Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“It has been stressful, princess. Believe me.” His thumb brushed across her lower spine and a hot shiver went through her, head to toe. “Remind me again why we can’t have sex.”
His voice cracked on the word “sex,” right there against her ear, and a swallow got stuck in her throat. “The reasons have changed, obviously, with this shiny new development. Lines that need to be clear will . . . blur . . . if we go there. But the underlying logic is the same. I can’t let my guard down around you.”
That big hand flexed on her back. “Do you always let your guard down during sex?”
“I mean . . . I have.” She drew the words out, registering her answer even as she spoke it out loud. “Sort of. Let it down. But I definitely can’t let it down with someone who is gleeful about pointing out my shortcomings and poking fun at my insecurities. That’s just self-sabotage.”
He frowned down at her. “What about the fact that you poke fun at my insecurities, too? Wouldn’t it be self-sabotage for me, as well?”
“You are a man. You’d be getting sex. You wouldn’t care.”
“Valid point.” His eyes narrowed further. “So you’re saying you would care?”
“I’m saying I’d beat myself up over giving in while you snored it up on the other side of the bed.”
“You’re so sure you wouldn’t be snoring right there beside me?”
“We’re not going to find out.”
“I’m inclined to agree to anything right now to make you happy, Natalie, but I’m not agreeing to any no sex rules. Sorry. We’re grown adults and if we both want something, we should be able to take it without consulting some arbitrary rulebook.” His chest rose and fell as he pulled her in closer. “If you don’t directly ask me for sex, I’ll respect that. But if you want to be fucked, you’re going to get it. Period, the end.”
Oh damn. That pulse was back and now a damp sensation had been thrown in.
She was aware of every erogenous zone she owned. Her hip blades, the insides of her ankles, her neck and throat and breasts.
This evening could not end quickly enough.
“Ah, here they are,” crooned a man’s voice behind Natalie. She turned to find the general manager of the wine train approaching with his hat sitting jauntily on his head. “The newly engaged lovebirds. Follow me this way, please.” Finally, Natalie unhooked her arms from around August’s neck and trailed after the manager, cool air once again making her arms prickle. “I’ll take you to the Lovers’ Nest.”
“Caw,” August chirped in her ear, sounding like a dying crow. “Caw.”
Natalie elbowed him in the stomach.
He chuckled.
And dropped his jacket around her shoulders.
I will never, ever let you down again. Is that clear?
His words bounced around in her head over and over again on their way up to the second floor of the train. He couldn’t possibly mean that, could he? No way. Just lulling her into a false sense of security. Still, her mind continued to replay that intense vow, the seriousness of his tone. Almost like he’d been trying to engrave those words on her brain. Yet he’d left something unspoken, buried between the lines.
But no. That’s ridiculous.
The manager led them to the farthest corner of the train’s second floor and stopped in front of a high-backed, red velvet swivel chair, the sides curved for ultimate privacy. It could face the train car or the window, depending on how it was turned. With a smile of pure anticipation on his face, the manager hit a button and a small fireplace bloomed to life beneath the picture window that would display their view of Napa’s rolling hills on the train ride.
But . . .
“There is only one chair,” Natalie pointed out.
“Oh, is there?” The man feigned surprise. “Surely it’s big enough for two. You won’t know unless you try!”
“Have you seen this man?” She jerked a thumb in August’s direction. “He’s the actual Yeti. He probably won’t even be able to fit into it by himself.”
The man looked momentarily thrown, but he rallied with a tip of his hat. “I’ll leave you to your own devices,” the manager sang, backing away, clearly committed to the belief that he was doing them a favor. And even Natalie had to admit . . . the setting was nothing short of sickeningly romantic. The pink-gold sunset burnished the velvet swivel chair in a glow and the fire crackled. A bottle of wine sat open on a side table with two glasses. Had her relationship with August been real, she’d be obligated to ovulate.
Natalie turned to August with the intention of informing him they would just sit in a couple of the regular seats, like the handful of inaugural ride passengers who were now making their way up to the second floor. Before she could open her mouth, however, he dropped into the deep swivel chair, stretched his long legs out, and patted his thigh. “Your throne awaits, princess.”