Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
When we get home, I’ll have to revisit that.
Right now, I’m too paralyzed to think about anything but this colossal blunder.
When Monday hits, I’m going to have the mother of all scandals on my hands—if and when Destiny comes to her senses and decides to out my fuckery to the entire world.
Vanessa is one thing, but she wasn’t my employee. It’s easy to work against her, too, when I know every word out of her mouth is a lie.
We didn’t have sex.
I wasn’t the villain.
With Destiny, I am the devil who couldn’t keep his dick tucked in his pants.
I have no idea what to do.
What to say.
The second she gets home and starts chattering on social media about fucking Shepherd Foster, you can stick a fork in me.
Right now, I have bigger problems, though.
Like how if this grass tickling my nose doesn’t stop, I’m going to sneeze in her face.
I hate to imagine her giving me the hell I deserve when she’s so real with me.
The way she reacted to those otters was genuine.
Her enthusiasm was sweet and innocent and entirely authentic. Definitely not faked for any clickbait shit she might post about it later.
She might dress up a few smiles for the online filters and fight for the best angle, but I know she didn’t manufacture that joy.
Or that smile just for me, brighter than the sun.
Which means I need to find a way of broaching this mess without hurting her.
Somehow, while we’re still naked.
Her breasts press my ribs, her cheek lies against my chest, and my arm is snug around her waist.
My posture is a fantasy, a lie that I could be the man to protect her, instead of the chosen asshole who’s about to blow her heart to hell.
This grass across my face is killing me, though, but I can’t will myself to move.
Destiny’s hand comes up and she trails a finger across my skin, skimming her nails through the hair and scraping down my muscles.
If I wasn’t too spent to speak, my dick would take a lot more interest.
“Hey,” she says through a yawn.
“Hey yourself.”
“You’re tense,” she points out.
Fuck.
Guilty.
I inhale slowly, thinking about how I can possibly approach this.
How do I convince her that this mistake can’t come out publicly without seeming like an even bigger ogre than I already am?
“Shepherd, you can relax,” she whispers, those fingers tracing down my stomach. Unwillingly, I soften under her touch. “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what’s got you so on edge.”
“You’re not?” I try not to let too much suspicion cut my tone.
“No. It’s okay. What happened out here was between us, and more than consensual.” She hits me with that smile again.
Goddamn.
I feel like the biggest jackass ever born.
My breath stutters unevenly from my lungs, making her head bob on my chest.
“The choice is yours, Miss Lancaster. I can’t ask you to bottle up your feelings. Not when I’m the asshole who uncorked them in the first place, when I should have known better.”
“You’re Miss Lancastering me again. That’s something I will tell every tabloid rag from LA to Boston if you keep it up.” She looks up at me and laughs, asking for a smile I can’t give. “Come on. You were good—inhuman, really—but it’s not like you cast a spell that made me jump your bones. I wanted this. I won’t go blabbing to the world how you seduced me against my will. I wouldn’t dare, but even if I wanted to, it just isn’t true.” Her voice quivers at the end, uncertainty chewing at her words.
Despite everything, I tighten my hold on her.
“You really are torching my reputation. I’m not supposed to be this readable,” I say dryly. It’s annoying, but I can’t summon any disgust behind my heartache.
Disgust isn’t an emotion that happens under blue skies with wild songbirds and a woman so gorgeous she could shame every pinup from the last hundred years.
I just can’t believe my life has become an X-rated Disney film.
“But you’re hurting. The stress, it’s eating you alive.” She stares up with large eyes. Her hair is tossed across her face, her ponytail a loose mess.
Well, I wasn’t exactly tender.
“It’s very fucking complicated. There are good reasons to worry,” I tell her darkly.
“Because you regret it? Is that one of them?”
Shit.
Usually, I would snap that of fucking course I regret what was clearly a bigger misstep than triggering a landmine.
Unfortunately, I care about hurting her.
Although she tries to hide it under her bravado, I get the distinct impression that her feelings are raw. Sensitive. Exposed and questioning.
That last one is a meat hook to my heart.
“Because I can’t let it be a problem for either of us, Destiny,” I venture.
“I don’t want problems,” she agrees quickly, breathing again. “Not for you or me or for your company.”