Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Chapter 22
Dara
Finn’s room is twice the size of my own. There’s a sitting room, except this one’s complete with big television, leather couch, a record player, and racks of music, movies, and shows. He gestures at the setup dismissively. “Never use it,” he mutters. “Not enough time. Make yourself comfortable.”
I hesitate near the couch as he disappears back into the bedroom. A moment later, he returns wearing loose sweats and a t-shirt, looking at me like he wants to bend me over the couch and spank my butt raw.
Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” I say, looking toward the door.
“It’s our wedding night. I’m not going to stand here and act like we’re going to live like husband and wife for the rest of our lives, but for tonight, I want to start our relationship off right.”
I hesitate. It’s a surprisingly reasonable idea. I mean, in theory, we’re going to be spending a very long time together—we might as well try to get along.
“Do you snore?”
His eyebrows raise. “I snore like a motorcycle backfiring.”
“Move in your sleep?”
“Like a barrel tumbling down Niagara falls.”
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “You’re not selling this whole sleeping together idea.”
He comes closer, staring at me with those hard eyes of his. “I’m not trying to sell you anything. For one night, I want you in my bed, acting like my wife. That’s all I ask.”
I have a thousand reasons why this is a dumb idea, the biggest being, I’m terrified I’m going to let this guy put his hands on me.
No, scratch that—I’m terrified because I know I’m going to let him.
But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we can get this intimacy out of our system, get a feel for what it’s like to be sleeping together, and maybe we’ll decide it’s not all that great.
I mean, it could work out for the best, right?
He really might snore and thrash, and that’ll cure me of any desire to be anywhere near this guy’s bedroom.
Except that’s a dangerous gamble.
Because it might easily break the other way, and I’ll never want to be anywhere else but in his bed.
“Fine,” I say after a short, tense silence. “One night. We’ll do this once, get it out of our system and then—”
“And then you can retreat to the guest room and hide from me.” He turns, walking back into the bedroom.
“I am not hiding.” I follow him, annoyed. “You’re crazy if you think—”
But the words die in my throat.
His bedroom is gorgeous. Lavish is the wrong word. Everything’s a shade of black or gray with several bits of beige and brown thrown in the mix. Recessed lighting, modern furniture, and a bed that looks like a family of seven could easily fit with room to spare. A laugh spills from my throat as I shake my head, pointing. “What the hell is that monstrosity?”
He grins, sitting on the edge. “It’s called an Alaskan King.”
“I didn’t know they made bed that big.”
“I like to have plenty of space.”
“For what?” My eyes widen. “Are you having weird orgies in here or something?”
“No weird orgies,” he says, though the look on his face doesn’t exactly make me feel better. “There’s some clothing for you in the bathroom. Get changed, do your night-time routine, and get in here. I’m waiting.”
“You’re being bossy as hell, you know that, right? What if I’m not ready for sleep?”
He reaches over and presses a button on the nightstand. Heavy shades descend over the big windows. The lighting dims slowly down to a dull glow. The space transforms into sleep mode with a smooth, oiled glide, and I swear the sound of birds and crickets chirping softly filters in through speakers hidden in the walls.
“Get going,” he commands.
I sigh and do as he asks, not in the mood to argue. Besides, I do want to experience that absurd bed, if it can even be called a bed at that size.
I put on a tank top and some shorts. He must’ve pilfered these from my room earlier. I wash my face, floss, brush, do that whole thing, before finally slipping under the covers. “Finn? Where are—”
He appears toward the middle of the bed. So about fifty feet away. “Come on, don’t be shy.” He stretches out and taps another button.
The dim lights fade to nothing until it’s pitch black. “Dark,” I murmur.
“How about this?” Another button tap and a soft murmur groans in the roof as a skylight opens up, revealing thick glass staring up at the beautiful night sky.
I blink at the moon and the stars in total shock.
It’s beautiful. Obscenely expensive, but beautiful in a way I never pictured. It’s like the stars are right there, barely ten feet away as I lie against pillows softer than sunlight. I reach a hand out like I could pluck the moon from the ceiling as something rustles to my left.