Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Sometimes.” The bag crinkles as he slips his hand into it again, though I relax a little as he comes to stand next to me, leaning back against the cabinet.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a gym rat.”
“I went for a run.” I try to ignore the heat of his arm next to mine as he turns the marshmallow between his fingertips like he’s studying a diamond’s facets. “It helps me think.”
“Dinner was that bad?” Disappointment blooms inside me.
“No, Eve.” His leg nudges mine. “It went well. Very well.”
“So they were convinced?” My visa’s safe?
“Not to mention as jealous as all hell.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I murmur, ignoring a spike of pleasure. I’m just relieved, I tell myself. About my visa and Nora’s money. But when he arches an elegant brow, for once I’m not driven by the impulse to shave that sucker off. “So you don’t run when you’re stressed?”
“Is that what you do?”
I scrunch my nose. “I eat when I’m stressed. I only run when being chased.”
“That I remember.” His lips fight the shape of a smile, and I find myself blundering on.
“I have a running endorphin deficit. I think it’s genetic. I wouldn’t know what a runner’s high looks like if it tripped me and sat on top of me.” I stop when he opens his mouth as though he’s about to say something. But he doesn’t. “Say it. I won’t be offended.” Jiggly ass, know thyself, right?
“I ran for another reason.”
“Like what?” Honestly, I’m curious. People who run must be built wrong.
“Running keeps me from making unwise decisions.” He pops the pink candy into his mouth, as though stopping himself from adding more.
“That’s fair.” I take another, considering his words as I chew. “But for mental clarity, wouldn’t it be better to run in the morning before work?”
“Work isn’t my issue.” Reaching behind him, he grabs the countertop, his chest expanding, his biceps flexing.
In a not-unrelated topic, my knees might also give a little.
I can’t help but notice how long and elegant his feet are. Houston, we have a problem, because I like his feet, and the only body parts weirder than feet are the wenis and the flagina!
He must’ve had a trio of fairy godmothers visiting his crib, because there had to be spells involved in the making of him.
I bless you with looks!
I bless you with money!
Though puberty will strike but once, you shall have the blessings of seven men—the kind that can’t be hidden in running shorts!
I hope someone sent the wicked fairy a thank-you note.
“You’ve gone very quiet.”
“I was just thinking,” I answer. Some might say overthinking. “I guess I’m trying to work out what’s troubling you.”
“I’m not troubled,” he says, looking exactly that.
“Fine. Talk in riddles. See if I care. I mean, it’s not like talking a problem through helps anyway. A problem shared is not a problem halved, or someone would’ve coined a phrase or something.” I go for a double shot of marshmallows to stop my mouth when Oliver takes my hand.
“Eve.” The way he says my name is like the brush of velvet. “Every night this week, after we’ve gotten back from wherever we been, I’ve gone for a run.”
“I didn’t see you leave.”
“I wait until you’ve gone to bed.”
“Why?”
“Why wait or why run?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, tugging me closer. And God help me, I don’t resist as I step over his outstretched leg. “Because I can’t sleep.” Taking the bag, he drops it to the counter. “Which leaves me lying in a bed not so far from yours, trying very hard not to wonder if you’re touching yourself while thinking of me too.”
“Oh.” It’s as though I’m not expecting our bodies to clash, as though I’m surprised by every, hard, glorious inch of him.
“I can’t sleep for wanting you, night after night. And tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking how, in the restaurant, it didn’t feel like pretend.”
“That was our agreement,” I whisper without a hint of consequence. Consequences would make me a hypocrite. Haven’t I been trying not to think the same?
“I want you—that much is real. I’m going crazy wondering if I’d ever get to touch you again.” Everything inside me clenches at his admission, and as he tilts his head, the air between us seems suddenly heavy, like a storm is about to roll in. “I can barely think when you’re near.” His hands glide across my shoulders and move down my back as he makes a plea of my name. Like I’m driving him a little insane. Honestly, I like that for me.
“If you kissed me, maybe I wouldn’t stop you,” I whisper, swallowing his breath and his words.
“If I kissed you, you know where it would lead. Darling, feel how hard you’ve made me.” Heat blooms inside as he presses me between the v of his legs. “It’s little wonder I can’t think straight,” he says as his lips suck over the beat of my pulse. “All my blood having drained to other parts.”