Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 144042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 720(@200wpm)___ 576(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 720(@200wpm)___ 576(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
“I believe you,” I say softly. “But isn’t when you’re feeling low the most important time to remember your appointments?”
I can’t see his face, but somehow I know he’s scowling. It’s there in the bend of his neck and the clench of his hands.
“I’m supposed to write lists,” he grumbles against my chest, then laughs shortly and without humor. “Kind of hard to do when I forget to write the bloody lists as well.”
“True.” I bite back a fond smile. “I could help, you know. Remind you to—”
“No,” he cuts in, soft but vehement. “I don’t want that from you, Button. I don’t want you to see me that way. As someone who needs minding. Someone to fix.”
“I do not see you that way,” I retort.
This time, it’s John who soothes, rubbing slow circles on my hip. “I know, love. But there are some things I need to learn to do on my own. Please.”
All the fight leaves me. He’s right, and pride is a powerful thing. Sometimes, it’s all you have left. I can only do as he asks. “All right. But please promise me that you’ll call Dr. Allen.”
There’s a small smile in his voice when he answers, “I will.”
He nudges my hand with the crown of his head. Subtle, he is not. But since I love playing with his silky hair, I happily take up running my fingers through the strands once more.
When he speaks, his voice is a ghost of sound. “Killian was so pissed at me. When I tried. I mean, I get it—”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in sharper than I intend, “but Killian can go fuck himself.”
John’s shoulders jerk. “Jesus, Stells,” he says with a husky laugh, “don’t hold back.”
“I know he’s your friend. But I’m serious. He can fuck right off with that.”
I feel him smile against me as his grip tightens. “It scared him, Button. Scared them all. It changed all of us in a way I didn’t think about. We were like spoiled children before that. Then suddenly, life got too real.”
I can practically feel the weight of that change sitting on John’s shoulders. I press my lips to the top of his head. “When I was five, I ran out into traffic and almost got hit by a car. The second my mom got to me, she slapped me on the butt and screamed at me for being careless. She’d been scared to death and her reaction was to lash out.” My fingers trail through John’s hair. “And I get that’s why your friends acted the way they did. But the initial scare is long over, John, and yet it still bugs you. You’re still trying to protect their feelings.”
John sighs. “Shit. I know. Can’t seem to help doing that.”
“Because you’re a fixer.”
“Hardly.”
“You are,” I insist softly. “You smooth things over, try to make people feel better. Just because you do it with a load of snark doesn’t make it less true.”
Affection warms his voice. “Just like you.”
We are alike in that way. I hadn’t thought it when I first met him, but I see it now. Our approaches are different but the intent is the same.
My eyes are drifting closed when he speaks again.
“You smell nice.” John’s observation wakes me up.
“Okay.”
“What’s with the tone?” he asks, clearly amused.
I shrug. “Smelling nice should be a given. Because the opposite would be that I smell bad—”
“Which would be a problem,” he adds solemnly.
I nudge his shoulder. “It’s like me saying, hey, John, look at you being all clean.”
He laughs and he rises. His nose skims my jaw, causing happy shivers to break out over my skin. “Stella Button, you think too much.”
I can’t help running my hand down his waist. He’s warm and solid. “Better than thinking too little, isn’t it?”
His answering hum vibrates between us, then he shifts, tucking his cheek into the crook of my neck. “Let me elaborate on my previous statement. You always smell nice. But there’s this scent I can’t place …” He breathes deep, then lets it out slowly, heating my skin. “It’s sweet and clean but soothing and kind of spicy. It’s in your hair and on your skin.” A big hand trails down my arm, John’s calluses rough, but his touch tender. “I love this scent. And it drives me insane because I don’t know what it is.”
Ye gods, the way he touches me. It’s gentle affection, but I’m burning up.
I clear my throat but my voice sounds too thin when I finally answer. “Your elaboration is definitely better than your initial comment.”
John hums again, his lips brushing my collarbone. “You going to tell me what it is?”
I honestly have no idea; I wasn’t aware I had a particular scent. And his lips lightly tickling my neck distracting me. “Uh … my shampoo?”
He gives me another tiny kiss, a little tease of a touch. “Nope,” he murmurs in a low, drugging voice. “It’s in Killian’s apartment too.” His lips press against the underside of my jaw. “Like you’ve fully inhabited every inch of the place.”