The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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“I don’t mind.”

“I saw you rubbing your neck this morning.” I turned, wrapping my arms around my waist. “You’re tall. The sofa isn’t that long. As long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself and bring that quilt in, I suppose there’s enough room in here for us both.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you letting me sleep with you, Grace?”

“I’ll make you sleep outside in the snow if you keep flirting with me,” I said firmly.

“No, you won’t. I’m far too charming for that.”

“Jesus, I’m regretting this already.”

“Careful, regret is the first step to admitting you were wrong.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked down, taking a deep breath that I slowly blew out through my mouth. “Oh, I’m close.”

He laughed. It was more of a cackle, really, that kind of dirty little laugh people did when they knew they had you backed into a corner, but there was no malice in his.

In fact, I was the one trying not to bloody smile now.

“You shut up,” I said, closing the bedroom door with him in it. “Keep your clothes on and your hands on your side of the bed with your quilt,” I instructed him as I picked up my pyjamas to get changed in the bathroom. “Don’t you dare take mine.”

I stalked into the bathroom to change before he could say another word. I changed into my nightwear and furiously scrubbed my teeth clean before I could let my brain talk me out of what I was about to do.

Sleep in the same bed as William.

I really had had enough wine tonight, hadn’t I?

Oh, God, no. I wasn’t doing this.

Not overthinking. Not tonight. Not ever.

Not with William.

I was going to bed, and I was going to wake up the next day with a fresh mind where I could get rid of all these silly little thoughts.

Even if it was next to him.

Oh, balls.

I’d buggered this right up.

I’d just been thinking about how nice it was to have his thumb brushing my ankle and his arm around me, and now here I was, about to sleep next to him for the next eight or so hours.

Right.

I was going to sleep.

Not.

I washed my makeup from my face and grabbed my moisturiser from the side of the sink, squeezing a bit into the palm of my hand, then walked into the bedroom while I rubbed it into my face and neck.

“Does it usually take you that long to get changed?” William asked, peering over at me from the bed. He was sitting against the headboard, on top of the sheets, and he was wearing a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“I was brushing my teeth and cleaning my face,” I replied. “Something you should look into, given you have pizza sauce on your cheek.”

He frowned and jumped up, darting into the bathroom. “You could have told me that earlier.”

“I could have,” I replied brightly, rubbing my hands together to spread out the dregs of the moisturiser. “But I didn’t.”

“You are a nightmare, Grace Brown.”

“Thank you for saying so, Lord Kinkirk.”

He sighed and ran the tap, shoving his toothbrush under it quickly as he shot me a dark look. “I never should have told you to stop using that, should I?”

“Terrible mistake on your part.” I looked at the bed and where he’d put his pillow, then grabbed it and switched it with the other one.

“What are you doing?” he asked around the toothbrush in his mouth.

“I sleep on this side.” I hefted his quilt into my arms and shoved it on the other side of the bed, then yanked the other over to me. “I sleep on my left side, and I don’t want to wake up staring at you. It’ll scar me for life.”

“What am I?” He spat the toothpaste into the sink. “Some kind of sleep paralysis demon?”

“I’d rather not find out for certain.” I leant over the bed to swap our phones, unplugging his from my charger, and grabbed my water bottle.

“My phone is almost dead.”

“Not my phone, not my problem.”

“Are you always grouchy when you’re tired?”

“Yes, actually.” I smiled, burying myself under the covers and pulling them right up to my chin. “That’s better.”

William paused in the doorway, looked at me, then shut off the light to the bathroom with a shake of his head. “If you’re trying to convince me that maintaining a friendship with you will be hard work back at home, don’t bother. I’m fairly stubborn.”

“Looks like we’re in a battle of wills then, my Lord.”

“I feel like I’m in a regency romance novel,” he muttered, walking into the living room. He appeared a moment later with his phone charger in his hand, and I pressed my lips together in a hard-fought smile. “Because you’re extra petty tonight.”

“My phone needs charging or I’d just let you use it,” I replied honestly. “And if I don’t leave it on, Amber will think I’ve been murdered and dumped in the loch.”



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