Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
As if a washed-up divorcée could ever hold him.
He picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips, and I drag my eyes to meet his. He smiles softly. I swallow the lump in my throat, fake a smile, and go back to staring out the window. My heart is racing. I feel hot and clammy, and a million emotions are rushing through me at top speed.
Suddenly I’m claustrophobic, and I just want to go home.
I want to run as far away from him and this place as I possibly can.
And I know that it was just some random girl from the bathroom whose opinion means nothing. I shouldn’t care at all what she thinks, but let’s be honest, she was only saying what everyone else is thinking.
“So tomorrow after we have breakfast with my family, we should hire a car and go sightseeing,” Blake says.
I nod.
“Is there anything you particularly want to see while we’re here?”
As if a washed-up divorcée could ever hold him.
My stomach churns.
“Not really,” I murmur.
“You okay, babe?” He rubs my shoulder. “You’ve gone quiet.”
Don’t be a drama queen.
“Just . . .” I frown. “Not feeling well.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.
“My stomach is churning,” I lie. “Maybe the spicey entrée.”
He chuckles and puts his mouth to my ear. “Maybe all that spicy dick you’ve been eating.”
I smile sadly. Only he could make me smile when I’m feeling so crappy. “Most probably.”
What’s wrong with me?
Can’t I just live in the moment for one fucking minute?
The lump in my throat begins to hurt, and tears threaten. I turn toward the window to shield my face from him.
It was a random girl who doesn’t even know us . . . Why the hell has it upset me so much?
Because deep down, I know it’s true.
The car pulls up at our hotel, and we climb out. Blake takes my hand in his, and we walk through reception. I notice the two girls at reception check him out, and I glance over at him. Tall, handsome, and dressed in a black dinner suit with an undone bow tie, he really does stand out. It’s no wonder he garners so much attention. I don’t blame them; I’d check him out too.
He’s totally oblivious, and as we get into the elevator, he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “I’ll make you a cup of tea when we get to our room.” He kisses my temple again. “Tea fixes everything.”
I wish.
“Okay.” I force a smile, and once again, tears threaten.
Ugh . . .
What the hell is wrong with me?
We get to our room, and Blake heads straight to the kitchen. I’m not actually lying.
I don’t feel well.
My stomach is churning so hard that it’s actually making me sick.
“Now, where would I be if I were a kettle?” Blake talks to himself as he opens and closes all the cupboards.
“I’m going to take a rain check,” I tell him. “You have your tea, and take your time. I just need to shower and go to bed.”
“You okay?” He frowns down at me as he pulls me into his arms.
“Yeah.” I kiss him softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Take your time.”
“Is that code for you want to be sick in private?” He smirks.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Got you.” He releases me out of his arms. “You go be sick in private.” He turns me away from him. “Call me if you need me.” He taps my behind. “I’m right here for you.”
“Okay.” I march up the stairs as my caustic tears break the dam, and I rush into the bedroom, close the door, and lean up against it.
Just one week.
It’s taken him exactly one week to break down my walls and for me to have deep feelings for him. I get a vision of us laughing and cuddling . . . making love.
I can’t go through a betrayal again; I won’t survive it.
The thought rolls my stomach, and I dry retch and run to the bathroom. I open the lid on the toilet and fall to my knees in front of it.
In silence, alone, poisoned by insecurity, I throw up again and again.
The bed dips as Blake climbs out of it, and I drag my eyes open.
I think I’ve slept all of an hour.
“Hey.” I rub my eyes.
“Hey.” Blake smiles as he sits on the bed beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
He brushes the hair back from my face. “You don’t have to come to breakfast with my family if you don’t want.”
“No. I want to.” I sit up onto my elbows and look around the room. “What time did you come to bed? I didn’t hear you come in.”
That’s an appalling lie. I pretended to be asleep when he came to bed, and only once I was lying safely in his arms could I finally relax.
What does that say about me? Pretending to be asleep to avoid him but only being able to relax once he’s wrapped around me.