Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
I linger in my closet for a few moments, debating if I should get dressed again. The exhaustion from the day and what I came home to dictates the answer for me. I grab a pair of pajama pants and my coziest long sleeve shirt, sliding into the set before I dry my hair. I don't bother redoing my makeup. Somehow, I don't think Owen cares what I look like outside of my business clothes and makeup, and there’s a comfort in that as I head down the stairs.
I find Owen in the kitchen, filling two bowls with freshly popped popcorn, and two glasses with black cherry soda water next to it.
“I figured you'd want a snack,” he says without even looking at me, somehow sensing my presence before I even made a sound. He glances at me. “This okay?” He motions to the snack he's prepared.
I swear my heart flutters at the sweet gesture, at the way he knows it's my favorite nighttime treat.
“More than okay,” I say, wondering how the hell I got so lucky.
He gathers everything on a wooden tray I keep handy in my kitchen, hefting it up and motioning through the open layout to my living room. “Netflix?”
My smile deepens as I follow him into the living room, him placing our treats on the coffee table in front of my couch before he makes himself at home.
And damn he looks so good on my couch, one arm sprawled over the back as he looks up at me.
I settle in next to him, smiling after I grab a handful of popcorn. “Can I just say it means the world to me that you're acting so normal right now?” I ask. “Acting like you're here because of a simple Netflix and chill night, not because of what just happened.”
“Does it help if I tell you that if you ever asked me for a Netflix and chill night, I’d be here in an instant?”
“Yes,” I say before crunching on my popcorn.
He grabs his own handful. “Well then, invite me.”
I chuckle softly. “Owen, would you like to do a Netflix and chill night with me?”
He scrunches up his nose, his eyes bright. “I don't know if I can. I have a pretty demanding client, I'm not sure if I can get away.” His full, rich laugh follows the statement, and I playfully shove against his muscled chest.
“I am not demanding,” I protest, but he captures my second shove with one arm, tucking me against him as he smiles down at me.
“Of course you're not,” he says sarcastically, teasing me further, his actions doing everything to lighten the mood and chase all the fearful tension out of my body.
I make no move to pull away, instead lean against his side as I reach for the remote. “What are we watching? True crime, reality, or a movie?”
“Let's watch that reality show you were telling me about,” he says, and there's something so incredibly sexy about him making the decision for me—a profound sense of relief in him not saying whatever you want and making me choose.
I'm all for choosing sometimes, but on a day like today? When decision fatigue is a real and heavy thing? There's something so fucking wonderful about not having to make a choice, no matter how small it may be.
I queue up the show, and we lean back, sipping our drinks and munching on the popcorn throughout the first couple episodes.
“I can see what you were saying about this,” Owen says after the third episode. “It's definitely a vacation for your mind, but damn some of these people are cringe.”
We both laugh, having already watched a couple of episodes through our fingers because of the secondhand embarrassment of all of the couples on TV vying for marriage on the reality show. It's guiltless entertainment, and one of my favorite pastimes. And I love that he's digging into it too.
Somewhere between the sixth and seventh episode my head hangs heavy against his muscular chest, his arm tucked around me warm and comforting....
I open my eyes, the sense of weightlessness jostling me slightly as I shift in Owen's arms. I blink a few times, my eyes heavy with sleep. He's carrying me up the stairs and into my bedroom, gently laying me on my bed and folding the covers around me.
My eyes are already closing as my head hits the pillow, this deep sense of comfort and safety wrapping around me like the warm blankets settling over me. I feel him pull away and reach out to catch his arm.
“Stay with me,” I whisper, my eyes still closed as I feel myself sliding backward into sleep. “Please.”
“Okay,” Owen whispers, and it's only a few moments before he climbs in on the other side of the bed.
I instinctively shift toward him, snuggling up next to his powerful body, inhaling his scent and allowing his warmth to send me straight back to sleep.