Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
The kind words coming from this rough-looking man hit me in a spot that was apparently raw, and tears prickle at the backs of my eyes. It’s been such a long day — from waking up next to Adrian, feeling happy and hopeful, to discovering my precious guitar in pieces, and my life suddenly in shambles.
So much fear, confusion, uncertainty, worry, stress — all of it comes rushing over me like a tidal wave, and it’s probably mostly that I’m just incredibly exhausted, but suddenly, tears are streaming down my face, and I can’t stop them.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter?” Duke starts to put his arm around me, stops himself, and then proceeds, pulling me against his chest, which is a curious combination of warm and cuddly, with the solidity of steel.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice muffled against his shirt. “Everything is such a mess, but you’ve been so kind. I need to find a place to live, and I need to find my music, and sort out my clothes, and I’m so tired …” I lift my head and try to look around the room. “Do you have any tissues?”
“Be right back.” Duke releases me and moves swiftly out of the room, returning moments later with a new box, which he tears open at the top.
I wipe my eyes and then my nose, and though the tears slow to a trickle, they don’t fully stop. Through all of this, Duke rubs my back, and I find myself leaning into him because he feels so comforting.
“You can stay here as long as you’d like. Don’t worry about that,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “You don’t have to work tomorrow, do you?”
“No, not on the weekend.”
“Then you can sleep in. Have a good, long rest, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”
I wipe my nose again and inhale a long breath of Duke’s masculine scent. After all of the day’s trauma, I’d think the last thing on my mind would be desire, but here, with him so close, I can’t deny the fact that my body is responding to his.
“Get some rest before dinner,” he says. “We’ll unpack your stuff into the garage and we can bring up what you need later.”
“Thank you for everything,” I say, reluctantly stepping back from him. “I really appreciate it.”
“It’s nothing.” He gives me a nod, a warm grin softening his hard features. “We’ll come and get you when the food’s ready.”
I don’t expect to actually sleep when I lie down on top of the covers, so I’m surprised when the next thing I know, someone is gently shaking my shoulder.
“Autumn, dinner’s ready.” It’s Adrian, whispering to me in the dark room, and again I flash back to waking up next to him this morning. “Do you want to eat, or would you rather keep sleeping?”
“I should eat,” I say, quickly reviving. The little nap has actually given me energy.
“Are you doing okay?” Adrian is sitting next to me on the bed, and he lets his hand slide from my arm to my hip as I turn onto my back.
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
“Everything will be okay.” It’s the most basic of platitudes, but he says it sincerely, and I’m starting to believe it. I have some rough things ahead of me, like confronting Lindsey and finding a new place to live, but it’s so nice to know I have the men’s support.
I nod, studying the angles of his face highlighted by the light coming in from the hall.
“I’m glad you’re here at our house.” He bends, hovering an inch or so above my mouth before softly pressing his lips to mine. It’s only a brief kiss, and then he stands and holds out his hand to me. “You’re probably starving,” he says, as he helps me get up.
“I guess I am.”
“Did Duke show you where the bathroom is?” he asks. When I shake my head, he leads me into the hall and two doors down. “I’ll get towels for you,” he says, opening the closet that’s next to the bathroom and pulling out a fluffy stack of white towels for me.
I haven’t personally seen men’s homes and apartments until now, but stories I’d heard had led me to believe that their living spaces wouldn’t be nearly as tidy and clean as this place is. Even the bathroom is pretty much spotless.
Behind the closed door, I use the toilet, wash my hands, and comb through my hair with damp fingers to smooth the messy strands. I blot my face with a washcloth and then push my stack of towels to the corner of the counter where they’ll be out of the way. I’ll get a shower later.
Adrian, who’s waiting for me in the hall, leads me down the stairs, through another hall, and out the back door onto a large deck. “It’s a warm night. Would you be comfortable eating outside?” he asks.