Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
He left the room with a grunt.
Josephine sat down slowly in one of the many needless seating areas. She’d known joining Wells on his comeback was going to be an interesting ride. One hour in and she was already positive she’d underestimated exactly how interesting.
Chapter Nine
She was one of those women who took forever to get ready.
Wells stood across from Josephine’s door, his back against the hallway wall, and attempted to glare her into emerging. He could hear her jogging back and forth in there. Between what and what? Why were the things she needed to get ready spread out all over the room? It didn’t make any sense.
Maybe after he’d left, she’d taken another bath, since she’d loved the first one so much.
The memory of her moaning made him curse, a weary hand raking down his face. That sound was never going to fade away, was it? All husky and uninhibited. If she reacted that way to a tub full of water, he wanted to know what kind of noise she’d make if he went down on her. Just . . . spread her thighs open and fucked her with his tongue. His goal wouldn’t be to make her moan, though, it would be to make her scream.
Wells cleared his throat hard and started to pace.
He never should have gone into that bathroom. As a man who had been around the block a few times, he should know the difference between a moan of pleasure and a moan of pain. But some intuition had informed him that Josephine was inside that bathroom—and the mere possibility that she could be hurt had propelled him forward without a second thought. His impulsiveness had cost him. Big-time.
Now he’d seen her pale, round tits and those berry-colored nipples.
Life was going to be a lot harder from now on.
Harder. Yeah, that about covered it.
Knowing her naked body rivaled the temptation of her mouth . . . was going to be taking up a lot of space in his head. There was no way around that fact. No way to forget her thighs, slippery from a bath. Or her skin, softened and dewy from the heat.
“Fuck my life,” Wells muttered, right as Josephine dove through the hotel-room door.
“Sorry! Sorry. My parents called.”
“Your what . . .”
He’d been all prepared to complain. To give her a hard time about taking eight hundred years to throw on some clothes. Unfortunately, as soon as she came out of the room in a strapless minidress, he forgot the state they were in, let alone remembered to be angry she’d taken so long.
Nothing had ever been more worth it.
He’d never had a favorite color before, but the deep emerald of her dress instantly became the one. It covered more than the towel had earlier, so why did it make her skin look so different? Almost . . . glowing? She’d done something to her hair, too, because it was usually up in a messy knot. Now it was down and sort of flowy? Shiny, too.
Oh shit, and then she looked up at him, rubbing her red lips together.
Red.
Maybe that was his favorite color.
Focus, man. “A call with your parents took an extra half an hour?”
“It does when they think you’re experiencing a delusional episode.”
“Come again?”
“They don’t believe me. That I’m here caddying for you.” She fiddled with something in her purse. Was that a purse? It was the size of a wallet, yet it appeared to hold a hundred items. Chapstick, a mini comb, eye drops. A green, cylindrical penlike object and alcohol swabs. Was that her insulin? He’d done some research on type 1 diabetes before coming to San Antonio, enough to know that there were more ways than one to administer insulin. Since she didn’t appear to have a pump, he assumed she took shots. “At first, my parents thought it was funny,” Josephine continued, recapturing his attention. “But my father is now speculating that I suffered a concussion during the hurricane. My mother’s theory is that I met a man and eloped, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part. Either way, they’re ready to call the FBI.”
“You know, I can easily clear this up.” He waved a hand at her purse-thing. “Let’s go. FaceTime them.”
“Really?” Hesitantly, she opened her bag again. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now,” he said, impatiently. “Unless you’d like to spend another half hour brushing your hair or something.”
“Thank you for noticing.” She pressed her lips together, seemingly to trap a laugh, and he found himself wishing she would just let it out already. It had been a long time since he’d heard her laugh and it had probably been at something someone else said, while she was standing in the crowd behind the rope. He wouldn’t have minded being the reason for that laugh just once. “Okay, here goes,” she said, the distinct ring of FaceTime connecting filling the hallway. “Hey guys, there is someone here who wants to speak to you.”