Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
There’s that warmth filling every part of my chest. I rub my hand over her arm. “So do I.”
After a few seconds like that, she slides her hands over my shoulders, down my arms and across my back. “I feel like your ink is more than decoration,” she says softly. “Like it’s your life story etched into your skin.”
I glance down at the two red cardinals inked onto the inside of my left arm. “That’s probably true.”
Unaware of my shift in mood, she kisses my shoulder, then slides by me and hops off the bed. “How about that T-shirt?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure.” I cross the distance to the dresser and pull the second drawer open. “Not a lot to choose from.”
“I’m not picky,” she answers slowly, staring at me with an odd expression I can’t decipher.
I toss an old, faded Harley T-shirt to her. She catches it midair and, clutching it to her chest, dips down to scoop her purse off the floor.
“My keys.” They jingle and tinkle together as she thrusts them at me.
Our fingers brush and she peers up at me, that same look of concern shining in her eyes. “Are you okay?
Having her so close, staring at me like I’m the only thing that matters to her right now, chases away the melancholy that started to invade our morning.
“Yeah.” I tug on the shirt in her hands. “I’m just not a fan of putting clothes on you.”
She slips the shirt over her head, and it falls almost to her knees. “But then you have something to take off of me later.”
My lips lift into a genuine smile. “Can’t argue with that.”
EMILY
Eager to return to Dex, I hurry up in the bathroom. My brain can’t help overthinking everything.
Am I a bad sister for getting back together with my boyfriend? No. I’ll do a better job this time of balancing the two areas of my life. Dex has made it clear he understands my situation.
Do I deserve a man as kind and understanding as Dex? I’m not so sure. I stare at my reflection, trying to tame my wild hair.
I really love him. Not the toe-curling orgasms he gives me—although those are life-altering, for sure. No, it’s more than lust. I love his quiet strength, his thoughtfulness, the way he sees the world. The way he sees me. He’s good for me.
Am I good for him, though?
My phone chimes and I dig it out of my purse.
Libby: Making waffles.
Me: So, not ready to be picked up yet?
I get an eyeroll emoji in return, so I assume that’s a no. Why do I even bother?
I cram my stuff back into my purse, take one last look in the mirror, and step out of the bathroom.
Dex is walking in the front door with my stuff in his hands and one of his serious expressions on his face.
“Good timing,” I say.
The hardness around his jaw and eyes softens. Maybe I’m good for him too.
“Do you want to go out for breakfast?” he asks. “Or we can wait for Libby, and all go out together.”
My heart melts at the casual suggestion. Like it’s a normal thing to do, not an inconvenience.
“I just got a text from her. They’re making waffles. So, I think they’re going to be a while.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “R.I.P. Frank’s kitchen.”
His lips quirk. “That must explain the burning vanilla scent I encountered downstairs.”
“Probably.”
Relieved I have something to change into, I accept the bag from Dex and hurry back to the bedroom. I unpack the clothes on the bed and set my sneakers on the floor. Thankfully, I recently swapped out my emergency outfit for something freshly laundered. It’s just a pair of black leggings with cargo pockets and a sweatshirt, but it’ll do. I grab my heels and clothes from last night and stuff them in the bag. My poor dress will need a trip to the dry cleaner—
“Glad I caught you before you got dressed,” Dex says.
I glance over and he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a tilt to his lips that would melt my panties right off my body if I were wearing any.
I drop the bag on the floor. “Why’s that?”
He dips his chin. “I like you in my shirt.”
“Oh.” My heart thumps wildly. “I like you in that shirt.” I nod to the faded, sleeveless T-shirt that shows off his arms. My gaze drops to the loose black gym shorts slung low on his lean hips. “The shorts aren’t bad either.”
“Grabbed the first thing I saw so I could run downstairs.”
“Well, it works.” I squint and tilt my head. “Although, I suspect everything looks good on you.”
“You look good on me.” He takes a step closer.
I blink and let out a yawn, quickly trying to cover it with my hand.