Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Malcolm grinned and muttered, “Can’t hurt.”
When we got to the hotel, I tapped the plaque outside the door to his room and asked, “Is it a coincidence that this is called the Sterling Suite?”
“No, it’s not. My family used to own this hotel, and I grew up here. Our apartment was on this floor. The current owner divided it into four suites after he bought the property. I was actually the inspiration for this one.”
The suite was opulent and enormous, with modern furnishings and a black and tan color palette. A grand piano was positioned in an alcove at the far side of the living room, which I assumed was the part inspired by Malcolm.
I asked, “What was it like to grow up in a hotel?”
He shrugged and tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair. “It was all I knew, so it didn’t seem unusual to me.”
“Are you staying here because it’s nostalgic?”
“I told myself I wanted to stay here because hotel rooms with pianos are few and far between, and I always like to have one available. But if I’m being honest, I think there’s a certain comfort in this place. It might not look like my home anymore, but it feels like it.” He seemed a little sad when he said that, but he quickly brushed it aside and smiled at me. “Let’s go find you something to wear. Then I’ll see if I can fix your suit.”
“Fix it how?”
He shot me a look. “By stitching it up, assuming it tore along the seam. What did you think I was going to suggest, a staple gun?”
“That or duct tape. Do you actually know how to sew?”
“I know how to embroider. Same idea—get a needle and thread, stab it through the fabric, repeat.”
When we reached the bedroom, he pulled open a dresser drawer and told me, “Something in here should fit you.”
I glanced at the jumbled workout wear and asked, “Do you own any clothing that isn’t black?”
“No.”
“Why is that?”
“If everything’s the same color, I don’t have to worry about whether what I’m wearing matches.”
“I can’t argue with that logic.”
I grabbed a tank top and a pair of gym shorts, which had a better chance of fitting than sweats, since Malcolm was about four inches taller than me. Then I moved to the bed and started tossing my clothes onto it as I stripped down to my red jock strap.
While I was doing that, Malcolm crouched down and pulled a canvas bag out of a bottom drawer. He began digging through it, and when he produced a few balls of yarn and a scarf, I asked, “Do you knit?”
“This is actually crochet, but I plan to learn how to knit. I’ve been trying out some different fiber crafts, as a way to relax.”
I returned to his side and picked up the scarf, which was made up of several shades of blue in an ombre pattern. “This is really pretty,” I said. “It’s not black though, so would you actually wear it?”
“I always give away the things I make. If you like that, you’re welcome to it.”
“Thanks.” I draped it around my neck and tossed the end over my shoulder while he continued digging through the bag.
“I really thought I had a small embroidery kit in here,” he muttered. “All I need is a needle and thread.”
“It’s okay. I can take the suit to a tailor.”
“But if I fix it, you can wear it right away.”
“You don’t need to go to any trouble, though.”
He glanced at me as he started to reply, but his words were forgotten as he ran his gaze down my body. This might have had something to do with the fact that I was wearing nothing but a jock strap and the scarf.
I hadn’t been trying to look sexy or alluring—I’d just gotten distracted before I had a chance to put on my loaner outfit. But when he stood up and moved closer, there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes.
He started to reach for me, but then he paused and met my gaze. Did he think I wouldn’t be into this? I caught his hand and pressed it to my chest as I moved closer to him. That had to send a pretty clear message.
Whatever happened next had to be up to Malcolm, though. I was keeping a huge secret from him, that whole ‘I used to date your son’ thing, and I felt guilty. If we ended up having sex, it had to be because he initiated it. That made a difference to me, somehow.
After a moment, he cupped my face with both hands and pressed his lips to mine. It was surprisingly fiery for a first kiss, laced with passion and need. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into it as my entire body responded.