Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“I love you.” My softly whispered confession is just for me, but it feels better saying it out loud. Closing out of the image, I shut my eyes, and I can see her clearly. I can see our future as if it’s playing out like a movie reel.
It’s time to take this to the next level.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Palmer
“You want to watch another one?” Brooks asks.
We’re in his bed watching a series we started earlier this week. “I should probably get going.” I say the words, but I make no effort to move. I don’t want to move. I want to stay here under his comforter and in his arms. However, I know how dangerous that is to my heart.
Yeah, who am I kidding? My heart is already screwed. We passed the danger zone weeks ago, and now all I can do is be with him yet try and keep my distance from him at the same time. It’s a never-ending cycle, and it’s exhausting.
“You could stay over.” He pulls me closer, and I feel his lips press against my temple. “You could stay right here in my arms, all nice and warm.”
“Sounds tempting.” It’s beyond tempting. It’s what I want more than anything, other than for him to fall in love with me.
“You could wake up the same way. I can make you breakfast.” He pauses as if he needs to collect his thoughts. “Your car is already in my garage. No one will know you’re here.”
That last line is like a dagger through my chest. “I really should go home.”
“You really should stay over,” he counters.
“I have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Like what?”
“I have grocery shopping, edits to finish for next week, and laundry, and the list goes on and on.” That’s pretty much the list, but I’m sure I can think of a few other things to keep my mind occupied and off him.
“I make a mean breakfast, Palmer,” he says, trying to convince me.
I cover my yawn as I smile.
“Baby, you’re dead on your feet. Stay with me. I’ll give you a shirt to sleep in, and tomorrow I’ll get up early and make you breakfast, and I’ll even help clean or do your laundry or whatever you need to do. It’s too late, and you’re too tired to be driving home.”
“Okay.” I tell myself it’s for safety purposes, but really, I just want to know what it’s like to fall asleep with him wrapped around me and what it’s like to wake up the same way.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. If you’re sure it’s okay?”
He wiggles around, taking me with him, and I somehow end up on my back. He’s hovering over me, and his smile is one I want to always remember. “You’re welcome here anytime. Whenever, however, I don’t care.”
“Thank you.”
He bends his head and kisses me. It’s a soft peck on my lips. “I’ll get you something to sleep in and go make sure the house is locked up.”
“You did that before we came to your room. Remember, you wanted to make it look like you weren’t home in case one of your brothers decided to drive by or stop by.”
“I know, but you’re staying here, and I just want to make sure.” He flashes me a grin before climbing off the bed. He makes his way to his dresser and throws me a T-shirt. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.
Tossing back the covers, I strip down to nothing but my panties and pull his T-shirt on over my head. I walk into the bathroom just as he comes back into the bedroom. He stops at the bathroom door, lifting his arms over his head and holding onto the frame. His eyes take their time drinking me in.
“Toothbrush?”
“There are extras in the bottom drawer. I get a new one from the dentist but never used them since mine is one of those expensive rechargeable ones. I save them usually for when my brothers are here.”
“Thank you for the shirt.” I pull at the hem and peer up at him.
“You look sexy as fuck right now, Palmer.”
I gasp. “You mean I don’t always?” I tease.
“Always, baby.” He drops his arms and advances on me. He spins me around and lifts me to the counter, stepping between my legs and kissing the breath from my lungs. “You’re always beautiful, but there is a little something extra seeing you in my clothes.”
“I mean, I do make this shirt look good,” I joke. “It has to be my bedhead from lying around all day, or maybe it’s my lack of makeup that really sets off the ensemble.”
“You know, my dad always says, tell her she’s beautiful even at her worst.”
I pinch his stomach, and he laughs. He cradles my face in the palm of his hands. “You’re beautiful, Palmer. Inside and out. I don’t care if you’re in my T-shirt or dressed for a fucking ball. No makeup, face full of makeup, messy hair, or primped to perfection. You. Are. Beautiful.”