Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” I ask after he lays down the fourth layer of blankets, suspicion lacing my tone.
“Making us a bed,” he explains, not stopping to look at me as he pushes the couch and coffee table out of the way. “This shit has been stuffed away for about a century judging by the smell of it, but it’s better than sleeping on the hard floor.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “And why would we sleep on the floor when we have perfectly good beds?” In separate rooms.
He finally stops. “The power is out,” he says, like that explains everything. “If you want to freeze your tits off—and I do mean that literally—then go for it. I, for one, will be nice and toasty in front of the fire.”
I’m afraid my tits are already halfway there. The floor feels like ice cubes under my feet, even through my thick socks, and it doesn’t help that my hair is still damp from my shower earlier.
“I’m never going to forgive Shayne for making me come here,” I promise, walking back over toward the warmth. Instead of lying on the bed of blankets, I sit on the hearth of the fireplace itself, my back to the flames. I watch Holden unroll a black sleeping bag with a green plaid interior before spreading it out on the floor. He stands, holding a mini flashlight in his outstretched hand. I accept it, craning my neck to look up at him.
“In case you need to pee in the middle of the night or something.”
“Thanks.”
Holden rips off his shirt before he lies down on the makeshift bed, crossing his arms behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Why are you so…unfazed by all of this?” I ask. “Aren’t you upset that you’re stuck here?”
I see him shrug, the flames highlighting the shadows of his muscular chest. Stop looking at his chest, Valen.
“Could be worse.”
Once I’ve been sitting so long that the fire has warmed my back almost to the point of pain, I peel myself away from it, deciding to bite the bullet and lie on the “bed” Holden made. Almost immediately, the cold returns with a vengeance. I take the pillow next to his, moving it a few inches away. I see his lips twitch, but he doesn’t comment on my not-so-subtle attempt at putting more space between us. Slipping under an old, colorful, crochet blanket, a white down comforter, and a dark blue quilt, I collapse back onto the pillow, bringing said blankets with me.
I shiver under the covers, my muscles tight from tensing against the cold. When I look over at Holden, he’s scrolling through his phone, looking like he could be lying on a beach somewhere—not stuck in an arctic fucking tundra.
“I’m bored,” I complain.
He doesn’t take his eyes off his screen. “Wanna make out?”
“Pass. Don’t you have any movies on your phone?”
This time, he meets my eyes. “Not unless you want to watch The Little Spermaid.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Why do you have that saved to your phone?”
“For emergency situations like this one, obviously.”
I roll my eyes.
“Don’t be jealous that you didn’t think of it first.”
“Some people know how to use their imagination and don’t need visual aids.”
“And what do you imagine? Besides me, of course.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not starring in everyone’s fantasies.”
“False.” His head falls to the side to look at me. “I told you my fantasy. It’s only fair you tell me yours.”
“At the moment? I’m fantasizing about getting rescued by a private jet. One that won’t stop until I’m on a beach somewhere tropical.” I pull the blankets up to my chin, blowing out a breath.
I can feel Holden’s gaze burning into me, and then he’s lifting his covers in invitation. “Get over here.”
“I’m good here,” I lie through my chattering teeth.
“Don’t be stubborn, Valentina.”
I cut him a dirty look at the use of my full first name. The faster I go to sleep, the faster this night is over, and the power will come back on. “No.”
“You’d rather freeze than sleep next to me?”
“That is correct.”
His eyes narrow as he seems to consider something. “You don’t trust me,” he declares. When I don’t answer, he speaks again. “I might be an asshole, but I would never touch you without your permission. I think I proved that last night.”
“Please stop talking,” I groan, trying to think of anything but last night. Or five minutes ago. Or any time we get within a foot of each other and nearly end up ripping each other’s clothes off. I don’t trust easily, but the truth is, for some reason, I do trust Holden in that regard. It’s myself that I don’t have much faith in. Case in point: last night.
I roll onto my side, giving him my back, and pull my knees up to my chest. I cup my hands around my mouth and exhale in an attempt to warm my icy fingers. Holden doesn’t say another word. After what feels like hours, I decide to trade in pride for comfort—and sanity at this point.