Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Lucky grins. “If this is a dominance thing, I have questions about your ex.”
That makes me laugh. I carry Buttermilk back to his corner pen and lock him in. “Bad, bad rabbit,” I scold gently. “You’re in time-out.”
His nose twitches as we stare at each other and I’m the first to look away. Lucky already has a paper towel to scoop up the little nuggets.
“No!” I exclaim in horror. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, depositing the poop and paper towel into the garbage can.
I grimace. “But no one should have to pick up poop when they’re a guest in someone’s home.”
Lucky laughs. “I said I don’t mind.”
I huff out a breath, blowing a lock of hair away from my face. “Welcome to my very normal, very unglamorous life,” I say.
“You know I like it,” he replies, still grinning. “Or else I wouldn’t be here.”
I point down the hall. “I’m going to change real quick. While this dress was completely suitable for a fancy dinner, it is not built for relaxing and I’m tired of sucking in my stomach.”
Lucky snorts and waves me off. “Go. Get comfy. I’ll look for a movie.”
In my bedroom, I peel off the dress and decide to remove my makeup. That’s not necessarily a comfort issue and if I’m honest, it might be more of a test. I made the comment about sucking in my stomach without much thought—that’s just how comfortable he makes me feel. But it was his reaction that got me thinking.
I figure he could have gone a few ways. He could have said, “What are you talking about… your body is perfect.”
I’m glad he didn’t do that because my body is most definitely not perfect and that would have been a lie.
Instead, he laughed at my self-deprecation and made no move to reassure me as a woman. That tells me he understands I’m secure in myself.
Now, the question is, does he really appreciate me for me, or does he prefer the glammed-up Winnie? As I wash my face clean and apply moisturizer, I determine it really doesn’t matter how he reacts, as long as he’s genuine when he does. And so far, Lucky has been beyond real in all he’s said and done.
I pull my hair into a loose bun. I slip into my favorite joggers and a fluffy cardigan with that freshly laundered smell, then turn toward my bedroom door. I pause, look in the mirror over my dresser. The girl staring back at me looks like me again—not the glammed-up version I played tonight, but the actual me. Barefaced.
A little flushed.
Nervous as hell.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I tell my reflection, “You got this. No matter what happens tonight, you got this.”
Back in the living room, Lucky’s crouched by the bookshelf, inspecting the photo of Sadie in pigtails and a glittery purple dress, holding a science fair trophy like it’s an Oscar.
He points at the photo. “I assume that’s Sadie,” he says, straightening.
“Little cutie that she is,” I quip, walking toward the kitchen to start the kettle.
Lucky turns and does a double take when he sees me. “You washed your face.”
I touch my cheek, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah. I just…” The words falter and I’m not sure why. Only twenty seconds ago I was empowered in my fresh-faced nature. “It’s what I do when I get ready for bed.”
His gaze intensifies and he walks toward me slowly. “You’re ready for bed, are you?”
I’m hypnotized by his aquamarine eyes. “Yes…” Then I realize the innuendo. “I mean… no, not right this second. It’s just… I always wash my face, all right? Not a big deal. Women wash their faces, you know.” The babbling intensifies. When his lips twitch, I know I should stop but I can’t seem to. “Good skin care is highly underrated. Men should be more cognizant of it too, but there’s this stereotype that you can’t be a real man and have a good skin care routine at the same time. In fact, I just read an article—”
Lucky grabs my shoulders and hauls me in, crushing his mouth to mine in a searing, sinfully hot kiss that curls my toes. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and I get swallowed whole in the sensations. I’m falling, leaning into him, wanting to melt and then… his mouth is gone.
My lips are cold, alone and abandoned. He’s holding me upright, peering at me when my eyes flutter open. “Now we know,” he says with a grin.
“Now we know what?” I mumble.
“That a kiss can get you to stop talking.”
“Sorry,” I say, touching my lips with my fingertips. “And thank you… I couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out. But I stand by what I said about skin care.”
Lucky laughs—deep, rich. “You’re beautiful, Win. I liked the bombshell Winnie.” His gaze rakes up and down my body. “But I like this more.”