Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Good night!” Pepper called after me.
“Good night,” I replied without looking back.
“If you get cold during the night, I’m available for cuddling,” Micah said loud enough for his voice to carry, and then it was followed by a laugh. “What? She might need me to warm her up.”
“I swear to God, I will throw you out of that window,” Pepper warned him.
I reached up and touched my heated cheeks. That was flirting, wasn’t it? Or was it just teasing?
Did it matter? Micah meant nothing to me. Not anymore.
9
Dolly
I will not look. I will not look. I continued to chant that in my head as I walked past a shirtless Micah sprawled out on my small sofa. One of his long legs was thrown over the back, and the other foot touched the floor. That did not look comfortable, but the display of so much of his muscular, hard, rippled, tanned skin was making it very hard for me not to stand and stare at him. Take it in. Memorize every inch.
NO! I would not do that. It was wrong. He was sleeping. He didn’t know he was barely covered by the blanket that had fallen mostly onto the floor.
Once I made it to the kitchen, I took a deep breath and inhaled slowly. Lord help me, that was not a view I was used to seeing in the morning—or ever actually. Especially not in my apartment. I busied myself with preparing my moka pot with the fresh-ground espresso beans I had bought from Whole Foods yesterday morning. Caffeine would help. I just needed a jolt to clear my head. That was all.
“Please tell me that contraption makes coffee,” Micah said from behind me in a voice that was thick and raspy from sleep.
I tensed and tried to pretend my entire body hadn’t tingled from the sound. “Italian espresso,” I informed him, then cleared my throat before glancing back.
I was glad I’d spoken before looking. He was still shirtless, wearing jeans that he hadn’t bothered to button or zip. The black of his boxer briefs was clearly on display. He looked good enough to eat.
His gaze traveled down my body, then back up as he slowly grinned. “You know, Tink, just because that wrap covers you from the neck to the floor doesn’t mean much when it’s pink satin and lace. Maybe I should call you Barbie instead. So damn prissy.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a nice way to insult me or make fun of me, but I wasn’t going to dissect everything that came out of his mouth. There was no point in it. He’d be gone soon, and I doubted we would see each other again for another six years. Other than Pepper, we had nothing in common.
My moka pot was ready, thankfully, and I focused on making my cup with a splash of cream, the way I liked it.
“Please make me some,” he begged as I took a sip from my cup. “I have no idea how to work that thing.”
He was probably exhausted from trying to sleep on my sofa. Feeling sorry for him, I set mine down and went about making him some espresso.
“I can’t imagine you slept well on that sofa,” I said.
He yawned, and my eyes were drawn to his stomach as he stretched. The way his abs flexed made every private part of my body come alive. He was walking sin. Forcing my gaze anywhere but at him, I walked over to the refrigerator to pull out the supplies for avocado toast.
“I’d have slept better in your bed. Are you offering that? Because I won’t say no,” he drawled.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. “I suppose we can change places. I’m not as large as you, so I would sleep better on the sofa,” I replied while turning back to the moka pot to check on his espresso.
He chuckled. “Now, what kind of man would I be, kicking a lady out of her own bed? I was thinking I’d join you. Just to keep you warm. No touching—unless you wanted me to. I wouldn’t mind.”
His words brought images to my head that rattled me, and I managed to lose the grip on the moka pot. It slipped from my fingers, clanging and spilling onto the gas eye.
I looked down to see the welt on my skin. The pain from the spilled espresso simmered, but thankfully, the stove’s safety switch instantly shut it off. Embarrassed, I was sure my face was the shade of a bright red apple.
“Easy, Tink. I didn’t mean to get you so worked up. Did you burn yourself?” he asked, coming up behind me and reaching for my hand.
It finally registered.
Great. Just great.
“You need to ice that,” he said, running his thumb over the swollen spot.