Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
He eases me to the ground. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I tangle my fingers into his wet hair. “We needed that.”
He inches back to look at me. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. I just felt it. I needed it.”
He studies me for several beats, his expression unreadable. He kisses me again, a deep stroke of tongue followed by another before he says, “I love you. Finish your shower.”
And then he is gone, and for reasons I can’t even explain that have nothing to do with how hot and naked he is or how much I love him, too, I want to pull him back. So much that it hurts to deny that need.
I finish my shower, slip on a robe, and step to the sink next to Nick, who is in a towel only, with shaving cream on his face and a razor in his hand. I slip in front of him. “I’ll do it.”
“You need to get ready. It’s late.”
“I have time.”
He gives me a heavy-lidded look and hands me the razor.
“Goatee or no goatee?” I ask.
“You tell me.”
“I like the goatee,” I say, stroking the foam from his face. “It gives you a dangerous edge.”
“And you like dangerous?”
“Only when it’s you.”
He takes the razor from me. “This is going to get us naked again. Go get ready.” He kisses me and foams up my face. I laugh and move away, the mood decidedly lighter.
I dry and flat iron my hair to a blonde shine, choosing neutral colors for my makeup, except my lips. I choose a deep rose that is almost pink, and it will match the colors in my necklace, which I now never take off. I walk to the closet and stand in front of the dresses again. The blue one he got me weeks ago is for tomorrow for sure. Tonight, though—hmmmm.
My gaze radiates to a simple, elegant dress with a beige underlay and ivory lace overlay. If I want to appear as an artistic type, it’s muted and beautiful, but I don’t reach for it. My attention rockets to another dress, an evergreen shade with a silk sheen that so perfectly matches one of the stones in my necklace that it can’t be an accident. It fits my newfound love of colors, and I smile. This is the dress.
I quickly pull on a pair of thigh-high black hose I’ve packed in my suitcase, then inspect the shoes Nick also had delivered, choosing a pair of black heels with a sexy double ankle strap. And then I pull on the dress, the deep V managing to show skin, not cleavage. The skirt flares to the knee while a full sash ties at the left hip. It’s stunning. And of course, Nick remembered purses—or the shopper he hired remembered. Four expensive purses that are all Chanel. I choose a small black bag with a sparkly logo and a bit of shine to the rather traditional and perfect style.
And then I inspect myself in the mirror, nerves attacking my belly. Tonight is big. Tonight, I am in a world I’d dreamed of not just visiting but embracing. And I’m there with Nick, who I’m suddenly eager to see. I fill my purse and slip it over my shoulder before hurrying through the bedroom to the living area. I find Nick in a sharp black suit with a black tie.
His eyes light on me, and he ends his call, the two of us walking toward each other, meeting at the back of the couch, a brown contemporary style that matches the two chairs framing it. Nick whistles as we grow near. My cheeks heat, and a smile touches my lips as I realize the dots in his tie are evergreen. I run my hand down it. “How did you know that I was going to pick this dress?”
“It matches your necklace perfectly.”
“You chose it.”
“I did.”
“When and how?”
“I sent the shopper photos of your necklace, and she sent me back options.”
He just made the romantic surprise that was those dresses even more romantic and personal. “I love this dress.”
“It’s beautiful on you.”
There’s a knock at the door, and he kisses me. “I’ll get it.”
“Who is it?”
“No idea,” he says, leaving me to find out.
Curious, wondering what Nick is up to—because this has to be Nick being Nick, doing something unexpected and wonderful—I inch up a few feet to try and see who is at the door. It opens, and I hear, “I have a delivery for Ms. Winter.”
“From who?” Nick asks, wiping out the idea that it’s from him.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know.”
Nick opens the door to allow the bellman to enter, and he’s holding a giant bouquet of flowers and a box of some sort, but I think it’s Godiva chocolates. My stomach clenches with the certainty this is a problem. The bellman sets the delivery on the coffee table, then gives me a nod and a “Good day, ma’am” before departing.