Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
He stirs, mouth curving in a half-smile. “Good morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I whisper, testing the word in this new context. It’s a softer thing, less urgent than waking underwater. There’s nowhere I need to be except right here.
He opens his eyes and blinks at me, green and gold and impossibly bright. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of my hair off my cheek.
“Better than okay,” I say, and it’s true. I’ve never felt so content. Or so exhausted.
He grins, wide and boyish. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
I duck my head, unsure what to say. No one’s ever called me that before. “I’m still learning.”
He props himself up on an elbow, the sheet sliding down to reveal the line of his hip, the trail of hair leading lower. I try not to stare, but it’s like trying not to stare at a sunrise.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks gently.
I nestle into the crook of his arm, breathing in his scent. “How perfect everything is.”
I remember the weight of him inside me, the wild tumble of pleasure, the way my body took over until I couldn’t think.
He rolls on top of me, pinning me to the mattress, and the look in his eyes is pure mischief. “Want to stay here all day?” he asks, lowering his mouth to mine. “We can do whatever you want.”
I pretend to consider, but the truth is, there’s nowhere else I want to be. “Anything?” I tease.
“Anything,” he promises, kissing a path down my neck.
I sigh, content. “Then I want to stay right here with you.”
Chapter 11
Everett
I text Ricky:
Status?
Which is assistant-code for how’s the shopping outing going with Ariel?
My phone buzzes while I’m pretending to be fascinated by a CAD sketch of a new design for a bottom scraper.
Ricky: Staring at blenders.
What could possibly be fascinating about a blender?
I grin at my screen like a teenager. A replay of yesterday and the night before last flickers through my mind—Ariel chanting my name like it was made of stars as she came undone beneath me, as she rode me into fucking oblivion. I adjust my throbbing cock under my desk and think about spreadsheets.
Me: If you’re done by one, come back. I need your Excel wizardry.
I bury myself in the scraper redesign, widening the throat, softening the edge, baffling to keep silt down. The office hums with the subtle whir of the air vents, far-off phones, and the faint ping of the elevator—a white noise ocean. An hour slips by. Then two. When Ricky’s laugh floats down the hall three hours later, the knot between my shoulders loosens like a hand unclenching.
They round the doorway: Ricky, talking with his hands; Ariel, shining with that new-world wonder that makes me feel protective and wildly, stupidly lucky. My pulse kicks, and the air in my office changes, becoming brighter and warmer with her presence.
Kara steps in behind them, a cool breeze of competence. “Have a nice day out, Ariel?”
“Oh, yes,” Ariel says, eyes bright. “Ricky took me to a mall. There are so many things you can buy!”
“Why have you never seen a mall?” Kara asks the question sitting on my tongue.
Ariel lifts a shoulder, choosing every word like a stepping-stone. “Where I’m from, we don’t really have stores. A villager might make clothes or jewelry or… whatever we need. If we wanted a store, we’d leave town—but we didn’t, not often. I just… became curious about the rest of the world and left. The world seems so much bigger up here.”
Up here. A tiny compass needle swings in my chest. South? Mountains? A commune with no Wi-Fi? My curiosity gnaws, but the part of me that matters says: It doesn’t matter. She’s here.
Because I’m… happy since she arrived. Lucifer allegedly haunts Screaming Woods, according to the town gossip, and a woman called Wendy lives in a shoe deep in Fable Forest with dozens of kids, so if Ariel told me she’d moved here from Hell, I’d probably ask if she needed a sweater.
“You ready for the family party?” Kara asks, breezing to my desk. “Ariel’s wearing a rather pretty blue dress I think you’ll like. A lot.”
Her eyes sparkle. Translation: I approve. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted that until right now.
“Yeah,” I say, standing, “but, Kara, I want to tell our families the marriage idea is a pipe dream tonight. You deserve a bigger role, but you don’t have to marry me for it.”
Kara tips her head, something like pride flickering in her eyes. “Good,” she says softly. “About time.” Then, she’s all briskness again. “All right. I’m stealing Ariel. Hair, makeup, moral support. Ricky’ll bring her back before we head to your parents’. Try not to stress-plan a hostile takeover while we’re gone.”
Ariel glances at me over her shoulder as Kara shepherds her out of my office. That look hits like a fingertip dragged slow down my spine—open, a little shy, and full of a promise I feel in my bloodstream.