Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Okay . . . he’s in it to win it, shooting an arrow straight to my heart.
Laird’s not playing for fun. He’s playing for keeps.
Bending to kiss my ribs, he says, “Your turn.”
I’m still distracted by his admission. What do I say to that? “Never have I ever been more attracted to someone than I am right now.” The words tumble from my mouth as if they’ve been there all along. Traitorous tongue.
“Mmm,” he hums, savoring my declaration, then hovering above the three tattoos before kissing each of them. “I like that.”
“The tattoos or the confession?”
He smirks. “Both.”
I smirk right back. “Your turn.”
He slides against me until he reaches the corner of my mouth and kisses me again. “Never have I ever gotten a matching tattoo with anyone else.”
He has so many tattoos, from lyrics scrawled over his shoulder to several guitars and other symbols I assume are from his life, but the one we share seems to matter so much to him.
I’m emboldened. “Never have I ever fallen so hard for someone.” I lower my voice as if it makes a difference and add, “Before.”
Lying back, he puts his head next to mine on the pillow and stares at the ceiling.
Oh no, did I take it too far?
The lengthening pause thickens the air with expectation. Our connection has been wild and beautiful, unparalleled to any I’ve experienced. But am I on the verge of losing it all?
“Never have I ever,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face as I wait with bated breath, “believed in destiny before now.’
It’s easy to believe in such things as kismet with him. “Never have I ever either.”
“I’ve got another one. Never have I ever asked a woman to go on tour with me.”
The words are filled with hesitation . . . and hope. It’s the latter that I cling to.
“You could fix that, you know.” My heart thumps so loudly he might not hear me.
He grins cautiously. “You think?”
“It’s worth a shot.” What am I saying? If he asks, will I go?
I’m swallowed in his arms as he kisses the top of my head. “What would you say if I did?”
“Yes.” Without a doubt in my head or heart.
He pulls me even closer, burying his face in my hair. “Poppy?” The charm of hearing him say my name is lost in the sound of regret.
I brace myself, my heart flip-flopping in my chest. “Yes?”
“I don’t want you on tour with me.”
Pushing away enough to see his face, I search his handsome features for any trace of what he’s not telling me. “What do you want, Laird?”
Squeezing his eyes closed, he opens them, and the blue strikes like lightning. “You. I’ve never met anyone like you, never felt like this before—”
“Like what?” Would it be so wrong to believe we can make something from nothing? That one night could lead to something more meaningful?
Oh God, did I just fall in love with this man?
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Resting my hand on his cheek, I lean forward to kiss him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Until morning. Then we’re going to who knows where. I don’t know where you live. I don’t know where the tour is headed next. I just know I want to be with you wherever I end up.”
And there it is. His heart on display.
Too happy to waste time with words, I kiss him. But I’m too giddy to contain myself. “First, tattoos, and now this. Next, you’ll be hitting me with a marriage proposal.” I laugh, and then indulge in another kiss.
But his lips don’t move, the buzz I thought we were riding tempered. Did I misread him? “What’s wrong?”
“Would it be so far-fetched? People have done crazier things,” he says as if that makes this idea less ludicrous.
My jaw slacks, but then I ask, “Are you being for real right now? I know we’ve said a lot of things. We’ve been under the influence of beer and even each other in the past few hours, so if you misspoke or let that slip out—”
“I didn’t know how to say it before, but it’s how I feel.” The conviction in his tone has me believing he’s telling the truth. There’s no way. He can’t be.
“We just met.” I laugh, trying to pretend I’m in on the joke, but it sounds as fake as they come. He doesn’t even try to hide behind a lie. “You’re not joking, are you? Give me something, Laird. Some clarification. Repeat what you said. Are you feeling alright?” I reach out to check the temperature of his forehead.
His chest rattles with laughter, though the sound doesn’t escape him. He takes my hand between his, and the smile gives him away. “I don’t have a fever, babe. I’m not drunk. I’m not even tired. I just know what I want.”