Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Her hand snakes out again, and I jerk back so hard that I hit the base of my skull on the tallest fucking metal headboard in history. I blink against the sting and the fact that it sounded like I just gave myself a concussion. I refuse to rub the spot due to showing weakness and all that. I’ve already been humiliated beyond repair tonight.
“Alright then.” Ignacia yanks her hand back and stands up. “Fine. If you don’t want to be touched, I get it. You don’t want to be taken care of. I won’t ask you if you’re alright again. You’re grown enough to figure it out for yourself. Just don’t let your pride get in the way. It would be a real shame if the world were deprived of your wholesome, sweet self.”
She turns and spins to the door, her anger a black cloud trailing behind her, but then she stops with one hand on the frame. When she turns around, unbelievably enough, she looks sorry and guilty. She hangs her head and bites her lip. At the sight of that, my dick springs straight into action, proving to me that, physically, I’m fine.
“That was remarkably rude. I don’t know why I said that. I’ve never implied that someone leaving the world is a good thing.”
“Then you’ve had the pleasure of living a very sheltered life.”
Her eyes flash. Yes, there it is. A hint that there’s something else beyond that wholesome, country-girl exterior. She’s like the perfect apple. Tempting. Tempting to the point of downfall. So red and juicy and sweet, only to reveal an unripe tartness that is enough to sour your stomach right off when the first layer is peeled back.
“Not as sheltered as you might think.”
I don’t think. I know. But she doesn’t need to know that. She can’t know that.
“Well, good for you that you’ve never met someone you’d wish death upon. Congratulations on being a virtual saint.”
“Ugh,” she grunts. “Can you just get up? Take a shower if you like. I don’t think we need a damn contract for that. I’ll change the sheets. As per getting your ass to a hospital if you need it, I trust your judgment. If I hear any weird thumps, I promise to kick down the bathroom door even though it’s solid wood, save you from drowning in the shower, and phone an ambulance.”
“Would it be terrible of me to cause a very loud noise just to see this door-breaking theory put into action?”
She very nearly laughs. Her lips don’t, but the rest of her does. I can tell she’s holding it back. Also? Fuck me, but my entire being wants to see the bright, sunny happiness unleashed in her. Now that actually makes my stomach churn because what the fuck?
“If I can’t kick it down, I promise to use some random farm implement long forgotten around here that could do the job. Don’t cry wolf, though. You might end up with a pitchfork lodged in you, and then where would we be?”
“Living in a better world if your theory is true,” I answer.
She laces her arms across her chest. “I said I was sorry about that. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why it even came out. It was so wrong.” She hesitates, her pulse leaping at her neck. I watch her jaw get hard, and she drops her arms. She’s gone from sorry to defiant. That’s what my assholery has earned me. “Would it be so wrong if you just fell into a deep coma and slept for a few years instead?”
“You’re asking this of a diabetic?” I fake-gasp.
She flips me a double bird, which straight-up astonishes me. I don’t date, but if I did, I wouldn’t have expected that the familiarity could ratchet up from the first meeting to the second date like this. Not that this is a date. It’s not. This is not how old married couples fight, bantering around insults that are more funny than hurtful because they do love each other fiercely beyond the appearances of continuously wishing that someone would drop dead for not picking up their socks or whatever married people fight about.
I know that’s weak sauce, but whatever.
“Shower. Please. Now?”
I throw back the sheets with a harsh sigh. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll get right on that.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it. Getting woken up in the middle of the darned night isn’t something most people enjoy.”
“That’s why you’ve been replaced by some evil twin?”
“Yeah, exactly.” She waves me off. “You know where the bathroom is. Use the towel hanging there. It’s clean. Do you need a change of clothes?”
“Why?” I gape at her. “Do you keep that in stock?”
“No. I was going to tell you that if you did, just wear the towel to bed or put your suit back on.”