Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I just want to wash the glitter off my skin and go to sleep and try to forget where I am—stuck with a man who makes me want him so much I feel depraved.
I strip down quickly, then pile my clothes on the edge of the counter, hang my coat from the hook on the back of the door, and drop my purse on the crumpled stack of my clothing.
When I turn the water on, it takes a little fiddling to not drown myself in the deluge cascading down. I realize it’s running down the sides of the walls, too, pouring from insets high up near slits of windows to create a decorative glassy sheen.
Dang.
He may not be about McMansions, but August still has plenty of that fancy billionaire flash.
I snag a towel from the laid-out stack, step in, and let myself melt under the soothing downpour. It’s honestly just what I need right now—shutting my brain off to let the heat take over and make me think about nothing.
Not August.
Not the way I’m getting all up in my feelings in the most hopeless way.
Not anything except that maybe I was a little drunk.
The hot water pulls me back to my senses, calming me down.
Everything’s going to be fine.
I’ll say good night, curl up in the guest room, try not to wonder about the thread count on the sheets, and sleep. I’m making up all this tension in my head, imagining scenarios that are completely one sided.
Just let it go, because if I don’t, if I just keep brooding . . .
Well. We know what happens when I end up in migraine land, don’t we?
And I don’t think August wants to peel a limp squid of a girl off his shower floor with a gash across her head.
That’s almost a porno setup, anyway.
The damsel in distress faints, the hunky guy comes to save her, they get hot and heavy because suddenly once she sees his rippling biceps, she’s completely fine and doesn’t need 911 at all.
I smirk as I scrub myself off using August’s shower gel—that’s what his crisp scent is—and wash my hair with a little dollop of his shampoo.
August is hot. Migraine-forgetting hot, but he’s not migraine-curing hot.
I don’t think he could fuck me out of one of those whoppers.
Or could he?
I kind of wouldn’t mind finding out.
Surely, he wouldn’t turn down a girl in medical distress, would he?
I can’t help laughing, my mood clearing like the clouds after a storm.
He’s also right. I’ve got the oddest imagination, but at least I entertain myself.
With a pleased sigh, I give myself one more rinse, then wring my hair out and wrap it up in a lush, fluffy dark-grey towel that feels just as much like heaven as the one I cinch around me from my boobs to my thighs. Loose and lazy, I step out, rolling my shoulders.
I just want to put on something clean and slee—
Oh, goddammit.
See, this is why August needs to learn how to text a girl.
I didn’t pack an overnight bag. I had no idea I’d be spending the night here—even as an unwanted guest.
I eye my clothes.
Definitely not putting those panties back on.
They’re ruined, considering how he had me wound up earlier.
Okay, I could put the dress back on, but my skin’s still a bit damp too. That sheer fabric will cling to me and make it look like I’m naked, and sleeping in it might ruin something that expensive.
“Damn it, August,” I mutter, smacking my face into my palm.
After I make sure the towel is wrapped tight and everything is fully covered, I crack the door open and peek out.
No sign of him anywhere.
“August?” I call. “Could I, um, borrow a shirt to sleep in?”
No answer.
He must still be prepping the guest room.
I duck back into the bathroom and gather up my things, clutching my clothes and coat against my chest until it’s like I’m not mostly naked at all. After shouldering the bathroom door open, I step out, raising my voice to call his name again.
“Augu—oop!”
I go smashing right into him.
Face first into his chest.
Guess he heard me after all.
Everything I’m holding drops on impact. I make an undignified scramble to catch it.
Maybe that’s how real life turns into an X-rated setup.
Dear God.
How I don’t realize my towel’s come loose and it’s slipping down.
Until suddenly I’m standing there, naked and damp and shivering.
Completely exposed, with the towel and my clothes scattered around my feet.
August stands so rigidly in front of me, staring down with his eyes livid, stars of blue fire burning through the shadows.
I’m too frozen to even cover myself with my arms.
Pure mortification washes through me until I’m numb.
He must think I’m making a play for him, pulling some kind of contrived—
But no.
August’s mouth tightens into a forbidding line, his jaw a knot of hard steel.