Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He smiles and takes a seat opposite me. We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us sure what to say.
“Where are you going on your trip tomorrow?” I ask.
“Kent.”
“Ah.” I sip my wine, and then eye it in the crystal glass. “Hmm, this is delicious.” “I have good taste.”
“Obviously.” I wink. “You hired me.”
“Sight unseen.” He smirks.
I giggle. “Kent is where Dover Castle is.”
“Yes. Have you been?” he asks, seeming surprised that I know this.
“No, but I want to. It’s on my to do list while I’m here. Its history fascinates me.”
“Why is that?”
“The Archbishop was slaughtered there in front of his altar by King Henry’s Household Knights.”
A frown crosses his face. “History buff, are you?”
I smile. “Perhaps. It was one of the reasons that Emerson and I wanted to come here. We love old buildings and history. We don’t have anything like that in Australia. Australia has only been a country for three-hundred or so years. The only old thing we have a lot of back home are tombstones.”
He sips his drink and licks the red wine from his bottom lip.
“There are lots of old things in the United Kingdom.” He raises his eyebrow suggestively as if to imply that he is one of those old things.
He’s just so…
“Do you travel much for work?” I ask as I try and remain casual.
No drooling at the table, fool.
“Not really.” He sips his wine. “I’m guest speaking at a conference.”
“Wow.” I smile. “Impressive.”
He smiles shyly and drops his head. “Hardly. I’m speaking on the effects of prison on drug addicts.
“Oh, that sounds heavy.”
He nods. “Could say that.”
We stay silent for a moment as the air buzzes between us, and if I’m not mistaken, he seems a little nervous too… or maybe that’s just because I’m nervous enough for the both of us.
“What have you got on this weekend? Anything fun?” I ask.
He exhales. “No. Not yet. You?”
“I’m going out with Emerson on Saturday night.” I sip my wine and lift my glass to him. “And you needn’t worry, I won’t be coming back here to embarrass myself again.”
He rolls his eyes. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”
“Because it’s beyond mortifying. I’m having it put on my tombstone.” I put my hand up in a rainbow shape. “Here lies Brielle, champion refrigerator humper.”
He chuckles, and I close my eyes, faking a shiver.
“Are you going out with your Canadian friend again?” he asks, suddenly falling serious.
I cringe. “God, no. That guy is a douche, and so not my type.”
His sexy eyes hold mine. “You have a type?”
My stomach flutters.
You… you’re my type.
“Everyone has a type… don’t they?” I smile shyly.
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have a type?” I ask.
He refills our glasses as he contemplates my question. Jeez, slow down. These drinks are going down way too easily. We don’t want a repeat fridge humping performance.
He purses his lips as he contemplates my question. “I guess the women I’ve dated lately do fall into somewhat of a type.”
“You’re dating?” I ask, acting surprised. Thankfully, he has no idea on my spying activities this week.
His eyes dance with delight… or mischief. I really can’t tell.
“I date.” He smiles against his glass. “I’m not that old. I’m not dead… yet.”
I bite my bottom lip to hide my goofy smile. “I never said you were old.”
“You seem surprised that I date.” He raises his eyebrow, and this time I know it’s from curiosity.
“Not surprised.” I wobble my head from side to side. “Okay, maybe a little. I thought you would have a steady girlfriend.”
It’s him that fakes a shiver this time. “I have no desire to have a steady girlfriend.”
“A wife, then?” I laugh.
“Oh, hell, don’t wish that on me.”
We both laugh, and our eyes linger on each other’s faces a little too long.
This is getting a bit weird. I am seriously attracted to him.
“No girlfriend. No wife. What do you have?” I ask.
His dark eyes hold mine. “Friends with benefits.”
My heart begins to thump hard in my chest. “What benefits?” I whisper.
He smiles sexily and sips his drink, giving me his best ‘come fuck me look’. “Sexual satisfaction.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as I imagine him naked.
I really need to have sex. He could say the word milk and I would find it stupid hot.
“I should get back to my book,” I whisper.
He nods and rolls his lips, as if stopping himself from speaking.
“Thanks for the chat, Julian.”
His sexy eyes hold mine. “You’re most welcome, Bree.”
My breath hitches.
There is something about the way he says Bree that is just so… perfect.
“Can I help you with anything before you go?” I ask.
His eyes darken. “Like what?”
“Um.” I get a vision of me on top of him, naked in my bed, and I feel myself get wet instantly.
Okay, get back to your room, you dirty hoe.