Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Prince,” Rip corrected.
I looked heavenward. “Fine, this frog prince”—I made air quotes—“finally got his head out of… his pond—”
“Nice,” Rip said under his breath.
“And the princess was curious why he was suddenly so willing to breathe the fresh air and talk to her instead of stare at his own reflection in the pond and bask in his own presence.”
Rip snorted. “Maybe your perception was off the whole time; maybe the frog was staring at the princess’s reflection but was too scared to admit it. Maybe he was scared to admit that all he’d ever known was the pond, and she wanted him to go to a new pond, a scarier, bigger pond, and then another, and another—”
“Well, maybe he should have just grown—er—up and admitted the truth rather than make her feel like her pond was too messy.”
“Her pond is messy,” Rip said.
“Messy isn’t bad,” I countered.
He sighed. “Messy reminds the frog of chaos, and chaos, after living in that pond… it makes him scared. Most frogs over the age of thirty are set in their ways, you know…”
I’d completely forgotten we were trying to tell a bedtime story, which was just as well, since I noticed that both Ben and Viera had fallen asleep in Ben’s bed.
“Never thought I’d see the day where you’d be the one to bore someone to sleep…,” Rip whispered.
“You helped, math wizard.”
“Low blow,” he growled.
I liked it.
A lot.
The rasp from his voice. The way he stared into my soul. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” He slowly pulled Viera into his arms and carried her to her room. I followed behind them and waited for him in the hallway. After what seemed like a lifetime, he reappeared, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“The frog story,” I blurted out. “Did you mean what you said?”
He leaned against the opposite wall, his eyes flashing. “What do you think?”
Slowly he made his way over to me, one step, two, and then pain flashed across his face.
I dodged a Lego and clapped my hand over his mouth. “Wake them up, and I’m coming for you in your sleep!”
His eyes lit up.
“You’re such a guy,” I hissed.
He pulled my hand away from his mouth and kissed the inside of my wrist, then pinned me against the hallway wall. “I want you.”
I stuck my chin out in a defiant gesture. “Give me one good reason why you should have me.”
Maybe bad chicken also makes me confident. I wanted him to say all the right things, things I needed to hear to know that this was real. That we were real.
“Because you terrify me. You make me want to color outside of the lines, which I hate. You’re an incredible aunt. You’re a loyal friend. Because you’re beautiful even when you’re walking around with ketchup on your shirt. Because it bothers me that you don’t see how unique you are, how special it is to be included in your circle. And finally because I’ve tasted…” He nipped at my lips. “I’ve drunk…” He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine. “And I fell.”
I was panting from one stupid kiss. I clung to his shirt, my eyes zeroing in on his perfectly muscular chest. “I don’t work out.”
“I know.”
“Kissing me won’t stop me from annoying you ninety-nine percent of the time, you know.”
“No.” He kissed me again and pulled back. “But it does get you to shut the hell up.”
He kissed away any protest I could have had as he lifted me into the air and carried me further down the hall.
He was taking me into his room.
Rip was kissing me and taking me into his room.
And I wasn’t daydreaming.
And we weren’t fighting—much.
And it felt right. Everything about that moment felt right.
So I let myself fall into it.
I let myself trust Rip.
NINETEEN
Rip
Never thought I’d see the day—or the night—that I’d hijack a story about a frog, make it about me, and use it as a way to get a woman into bed.
But here we were.
And I was doing exactly that.
My hands shook as I kicked the door closed softly and then started raining kisses down her neck as she panted my name.
Heart thudding against my chest, I guided her toward the bed, then tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground.
“Fuck.” I’d forgotten how perfect her breasts were. She’d worn a bikini on a trip we’d taken to Mexico with Monica and Brooks, and I’d had to tell myself not to notice about a million times.
She smiled up at me. “I hope that’s a good ‘fuck.’”
“You’re sexy when you swear.” I reached for her; I wanted to cover her body with mine and kiss her until I had to have her or died from wanting her. “And it’s a good one.”
“They’re a bit big.” She cupped herself, making me groan.