Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I looked past her to the coffee machine, thinking about cold showers and Walker Ironside to dull the throb of arousal.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … did you want your own bedroom?”
“Do you want me to have my own bedroom?”
At her smarting tone, I looked at her. “I want what you want.”
“Fine. I’ll move into the other bedroom.” She abandoned her coffee and marched past me.
“Callie—”
“I have to get ready.”
“Shit,” I murmured under my breath, suspecting I’d fucked up but uncertain of how.
CALLIE
There was something therapeutic about making pastry. As I worked on the détrempe (the dough for making croissants), I tried to relax into the method, knowing it by heart. In fact, I was on autopilot as I took my last batch out of proofing and put the new batch in. Shaping the former batch into rectangles, I wrapped them and put them in the freezer where they’d stay until early the next morning. Then I worked on the butter blocks and put them in the freezer too.
Once all batches were in and everything else was prepped for me returning in the early hours, I stood in the bakery kitchen not knowing what to do. I’d dragged out prep for as long as possible.
With a sigh, I texted Lewis I was on my way home.
Home.
It didn’t much feel like it with the two of us dancing around our attraction.
My phone pinged.
Still at my parents. Been helping Dad with work project. Meet me here?
I should be grateful my boyfriend and Dad had eased up and were letting me go places by myself this week, considering everyone was on edge about the break-in. Especially as the police hadn’t gotten in touch about the CCTV footage yet. Instead, I was agitated. Despite Lewis’s weak protests, I’d moved into the guest bedroom.
Waking up to realize my boyfriend was taking care of himself in the bathroom instead of making love to me, I’d been hurt.
I knew we’d talked about taking it slow, but I was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t more to it. Lewis was serious about sex. It was important to him. Not that it wasn’t important to me, but it obviously wasn’t good for him unless emotions were involved. And I got that. Sex with Lewis was explosive, and I think it was because of how we felt for each other.
But did that mean he didn’t want to have sex because he still didn’t trust me with his emotions?
That’s not how he made me feel otherwise, and it was confusing the heck out of me. I mean, he got me pregnant, for goodness’ sake, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t have sex when our emotions were up in the air!
Last night he’d gone and dropped the surprise that he was taking me on dates three and four from my teenage list of dream dates: We were going to Edinburgh to the theater (he wouldn’t tell me what play) and to visit the National Museum. He’d booked us into the Scotsman Hotel and had planned this lush weekend getaway. I assumed he’d only booked one room, which was kind of a problem since I’d moved out of his bedroom to give him space.
The fact that I felt like I was coming out of my own skin didn’t help. Every inch of me prickled with awareness when I was near him or even when just thinking about him. I had goose bumps, hard nipples, and slickness between my thighs on a regular basis. I’d eventually googled it and apparently, it was not unusual to be extremely horny late in the first trimester and during the second.
Last night, I’d taken care of myself in my lonely guest bedroom and was louder than I intended when I came. This morning, Lewis had watched me with a brooding intensity that made me want to jump him.
We needed to talk about it before I combusted all over him.
The plan was to broach the subject with maturity and calm.
However, after my decision to talk to Lewis about our non-sex life, he kept us so long at his parents’ house, I had no option but to head straight to bed when we got home. Then I was up at three a.m., so there was no time then either.
Lewis was at work when I returned to the house in the afternoon. The security system hadn’t been installed yet, and I’d promised not to be home alone without him, but I needed a nap.
An ache filled my chest as I wandered into the primary suite instead of the guest room. Lewis had made the bed, but I found myself kicking off my flats and getting in on his side. I wrapped my arms around his pillow, inhaling the scent of his aftershave and feeling a mix of desire and sadness.
The water from the moat around the house glimmered in the afternoon sun, and I let the peaceful magic of my surroundings lull me from my sadness into sleep.