Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
James fastens his trousers and gets his shirt back on, tucking it in. “Why are you asking if there’s a problem? Because if there is, you’re going to tell me you don’t want to know what the problem is.” His lips straighten, and my eyes narrow.
“I fucking hate your riddles.” I fasten the buttons of my shirt with a heavy hand, and James stares at me as he coils the belt in his hands.
“They’re not riddles, Beau.” He steps into me and kisses me gently, nibbling his way across my lips. “But if they were, the answers are right here waiting for you.”
I get lost in his attention. It’s a given. “Do you hate how much I don’t want to know?” I ask around his mouth, looping an arm around his neck.
“No, I hate how much I want to tell you.” My ass is seized, and I’m pulled up his body, my legs wrapping around his waist. I pull back and get his face in my sights. His gorgeous, manly, handsome face. I drop a kiss on the corner of his otherworldly lips and sweep my hands through his waves. And as I’m breathing him into me, relaxed, my mind seems to open and piece together the endless things James has said.
His other name. How much he wants to tell me. How he thinks I’m getting more than I bargained for. His errands today.
Oh my God.
It’s so fucking obvious, I don’t know how I didn’t consider it before.
I stare at the wall past his shoulder, my twisted thoughts all straightening out.
He’s a dad. He has a kid.
I pull away and look at him in question, my mind spinning at one hundred miles an hour. How did I miss this? He hates how much he wants to tell me, because sharing that part of his life is a serious business—something a man would only do if he was thinking of introducing someone to their child. Right? Is he thinking of introducing me? And what does that mean? Me? A kid? Fucking hell, I couldn’t inflict my gloom on a child.
I try to detach myself from him, but he stands firm, keeping me hanging from his torso, dipping to get my purse from the floor. Then he turns and walks out, and I catch sight of the fogged mirror. My face is distorted. Blurry. Unclear.
I don’t bother telling him to put me down. I don’t think I can walk anyway, not after that orgasm, and not while my mind is so focused on my latest revelation.
“It’s a no,” James says to Dean as he carries me through the apartment.
Dean’s face is a picture as he stands from the stool, walking slowly into the middle of the room as he watches us leave. I raise a hand and offer a small, guilty smile before the wood of the door comes between us.
Only once we’re in the elevator does James put me down. “What’s up?” he asks, assessing me closely, blindly hitting the button for the first floor. I don’t like it. Not at all. I can’t look at him. Being involved with a man who’s a dad is no joke. It carries responsibilities. I’m not equipped. God damn it, and I feel awful for thinking it, but I’m pissed off. Pissed off that he’s ruined the illusion. Tarnished my escape.
“Nothing.” I thank all the gods when my cell rings. Nath’s name on my screen fills me with dread and relief all at once. “Excuse me,” I say to James, stepping off the elevator when the doors open. “I need to take this.” I wander to the seats in the lobby, but I don’t sit down. “Nath?”
“Hey, you free?” he blurts, no greeting, no enquiry into how I am.
I’m not imagining it, he sounds tense, and Nath doesn’t do tense. He’s as cool as a man can come. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and I feel every muscle in my body harden.
“Is this about Mom?”
“Can you meet me at mine?”
“Why your place?” I have never, not ever, met Nath at his place. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever stepped foot in his house. I’ve picked him up. I’ve waited outside while he went in to fetch something. But I’ve never been inside. He’s always claimed it’s too messy, that he’s ashamed of how undomesticated he is.
“An hour,” he says, not answering me. I glance at my screen, seriously disliking the pinching feeling all over my skin. He sounded out of breath. Stressed.
“Okay?” James asks, approaching with caution.
“Yeah.” I back away, and even though I don’t like the call with Nath, it’s a perfect excuse for me to gain some space from James to get my thoughts in line. “A friend needs me. I have to go.”
He can’t disguise his displeasure. Or his suspicion. But I have to make him believe it’s nothing much, because the alternative will open a whole can of worms that I absolutely do not want to share with James. “Man trouble.” I shrug lamely. “Call you later?”