Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I didn't quite snatch the bag from his hand. Not exactly.
I could smell the pastrami, salty and rich. Calories. Yum.
As usual, I'd started my day on a cup of coffee, planning to eat breakfast, and had somehow never made it there. My feet hurt, my hair was an explosion of frizz, and I was pretty sure my sweat had passed the glowing stage. Royal just smiled at me, his eyes tracking past me to where the bouquet he'd sent crowded my small desk.
“Did you like the flowers?”
I raised my head from peeking in the bag and glanced over my shoulder at the flowers. “They're beautiful. I've been debating the appropriate way to say thank you.”
Royal's eyes skimmed me from head to toe, slowly, deliberately, heat blooming in their wake. Oh, I knew what he was thinking. That way lie danger. For me, not for him. I shook my head in a negative, trying to hide the smile that wanted to curve my mouth.
I expected him to say something suggestive. Proposition me or ask me out again. Instead, he gave me an easy smile. “I'm sure you'll think of something. In case you were wondering, your brownies aside, I'm partial to pie.”
“What kind?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Oh, pretty much all of them.”
“But what’s your favorite? Just asking out of curiosity.”
“Anything with berries.”
“Good to know,” I said and stood there like a dork holding the sandwich bag and staring at him. He was just so much. He filled the kitchen with his maleness, with that dark hair and strong jaw, his broad shoulders and blue, blue eyes.
Maybe it was his pheromones. That was it, he was using his body chemistry to make me crazy. It wasn't my fault. Any woman would be attracted to him.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No—I, um, I just finished a wedding cake, and I was thinking about lunch, actually, and how I really didn't want to eat the casserole upstairs, so this is very much appreciated. But, um, why are you here?”
Royal leaned his hip against one of my worktables and shoved a hand in his pocket. He shrugged one shoulder. “To be honest, I don't really know. I had a crap morning and I'm headed to Heartstone for what will hopefully be a better afternoon. I tried to tell myself I didn't have time to see you, but here I am. Because I really wanted to see you.”
“But why?” A dumb question, I know, but really, I didn't get it. What was there to see? It was just me and my apron, my hair sticking out in every direction, streaked with flour. Why me?
Royal straightened and closed the distance between us, his blue eyes focused on my face. Plucking the sandwich bag from my hand, he raised his own and extended one finger to trace over the curve of my cheekbone.
Leaning down, he murmured, “Because you’re you, and seeing you feels good. I could try listing all your good qualities. I did that on Friday, but it doesn't seem to have sunk in. So, I'm going to go with the easy answer. Being near you makes me feel good. And I can't stop thinking about doing this.”
Royal set the sandwich bag on the table behind him and turned, cupping my face in his hands. I knew what he was going to do. I could feel it coming.
I should have stepped back. I should have told him not to.
I should have told him I had a boyfriend.
I didn't do any of that.
I didn't want to step back.
And I didn't really have a boyfriend.
But I did want Royal to kiss me.
I might as well see what it was like, I reasoned. Royal would lose interest and move on eventually, so I should kiss him while I had the chance.
At that moment—my heart beating a fast rhythm in my chest, his hands warm on my face, his mouth dropping to mine—kissing Royal made complete sense.
His lips brushed mine, soft and warm. Gentle but coaxing. He wasn’t all tongue and saliva like the last guy I’d kissed. He'd been enough to put me off kissing for—had it been a year? Maybe J.T. was right. It had been too long.
My thoughts faded as Royal tilted his head to the side and deepened his kiss, his lips nudging mine apart, his tongue dipping in to taste.
Chocolate. Royal Sawyer tasted like bittersweet chocolate. Like chocolate and heat and man.
I rose to my toes, winding my arms around his neck, and pressed my body to his. So much strength. And big, bigger than me. His arms closed around my back and my toes left the floor. Before I had a chance to panic, Royal turned and set me on the worktable, making space between my spread knees, his mouth still on mine, his kiss hungrier.