Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Scott was obviously a skilled horseman, handling the animal as if it was second nature, and something about that both surprised and impressed me.
Where the heck was the man I’d once known? The one who never got out of bed before noon. The one whose idea of being outdoors meant hanging out on the Blackstone yacht sunbathing. Which made me wonder if the drunken wedding debacle had been an anomaly.
“You should let him go down on you,” Miller said, studying my husband.
Grimacing, I took another sip of my coffee. “We’re not sleeping together.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m married to him.”
“Sometimes you’re so heteronormative.”
Snickering, I told him, “It’s probably all hype anyway. He probably sucks in bed.”
He gave me a look that said yeah, right––get real. “That mouth could suck a watermelon through a straw. I’d bet my balls it’s not hype.”
I nearly choked on my French roast. “Miller…”
He patted my back until the coughing fit slowly subsided. “Trust me, I’m an expert on the subject.”
“I’m not sleeping with my fake husband.” I’d explained the ruse to my friend because there was no way Miller was going to buy the lie. Knowing me as well as he did, he’d never believe that I’d fallen in love with a stranger and done something as rash as get married within a week––or ten for that matter. It would be so out of character for me as to be inconceivable. “That would be the absolute dumbest thing to do.”
An image of Scott’s hard body moving over mine flashed in my mind’s eye and I swallowed, my hand automatically going to my throat. “Worse than marrying him to begin with.”
While Scott took the saddle off his horse, I checked him out. I studied the way the soft fabric of his jeans hugged the swell of hard muscle beneath. The way the thermal shirt pulled against his traps and shoulders. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught myself enjoying his body from afar. The man shed pheromones like fleas off a junkyard dog. Was it any wonder I was catching an inconvenient case of lust for my husband? I was only human after all.
Last night was a particularly embarrassing example. My face flashed with heat just thinking about it. I’d been working late on a contract revision and, needing to stay awake, I decided to take a cold shower around midnight. Not that there was any choice with the water heater still on the fritz.
I’d opened the bathroom door to find Scott––who looked to have recently come in from his nightly tomcatting––in the hallway naked, save for his underwear. At first, both of us stood there frozen, unsure what to do. Then his gaze slowly lowered, and his eyes claimed every square inch of exposed skin my bath towel couldn’t hide as if it were his right…as if he wanted to touch me. And I hadn’t fared much better. While he was busy doing his thing, I practically pulled an eye muscle trying to keep my gaze above his waist.
This unwelcome sexual tension between us had all the subtlety of a one-ton Angus bull, and as such, I was sure it was going to start breaking shit soon.
“Besides…” I watched the network of his back muscles flex. “He likes me as much he likes…” My voice faded to silence when Scott turned and spotted us leaning against the parked blue pickup––and he didn’t look at all happy about it.
His flinty gaze moved from my face to the red running tights I was wearing in a slow deliberate manner. The heated examination was no doubt meant to intimidate me. It failed in that regard (I mean, really?) but it did, unfortunately, have the unintended consequence of setting my body on slow burn.
“Hello, daddy,” I heard Miller mutter under his breath. I heard it despite the incessant drumbeat of need throbbing between my legs and the blood rushing in my ears. He wasn’t even my type, for heaven’s sake! I’d always kept men like him––the ones driven by emotion and instinct––at a safe distance. They tended to be volatile and unpredictable and I had no room for that BS in my life. My childhood was one unpredictable moment after another. Which was why I had always been attracted to mellow guys, the ones ruled by reason and intellect. Ones you could talk to. Guys like Josh who were sweet and kind and humble. None of which described the man who was presently glowering at me.
Scott said something to the ranch hands that I couldn’t make out. They all suddenly found something else to gawk at, so it wasn’t too difficult to surmise what that could be. Then he set off across the parking lot heading straight for us. His loose-gaited stride ate up the ground like he owned the stuff beneath his feet, and in Scott’s case, that was true most of the time, which made it a wholly eye roll-worthy experience for the rest of us who didn’t.