Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I don’t look away. “Then I’ll keep her. No questions asked. It gets a little lonely around here sometimes.”
A silent war plays out across her face. Joy, surprise, gratitude, and something deeper. Something that looks an awful lot like heartbreak.
She lifts the kitten into her arms, cradling the tiny body against her chest, pressing her cheek to the small, purring head.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she whispers, her tone thick with emotion.
I step closer. “I knew it would make you happy. That’s all I want.”
The smile she graces me with is full and wide. It’s the kind that takes me apart and stitches me back together in the same heartbeat.
“Thank you.”
Drawn to her, I brush my fingers against her flour-covered cheek. “Anytime, lucky charm.”
My heart expands. Ever since I met this girl in college, all I’ve ever wanted to do is make her happy.
After dinner, Lilah settles on the couch with the kitten.
Once the kitchen is cleaned, I drop onto the cushion beside her and turn sideways so I can watch the two of them. Lilah’s bare feet are tucked beneath her, and she’s stroking the kitten’s fur.
“You’re good with her,” I say after a long beat of comfortable silence.
She glances up at me with a smile. “She’s perfect. Thanks again for bringing her home.”
“No problem.”
Lilah scratches behind the kitten’s ears. “What should we name her?”
“What do you mean? Why can’t we just keep calling her ‘kitten’?”
“She deserves something dignified,” Lilah says, with the kind of serious tone that tells me she’s already thinking way too hard about this. “Something elegant. Timeless.”
I rub my jaw, pretending to be just as serious. “Like… Duchess Fluffernutter the Third?”
Lilah chokes on a laugh. “Oh my God, stop. Absolutely not.”
“You said timeless.”
“I meant like Eleanor. Or maybe Margot.”
“Mmm. Too regal,” I say. “What about… Are you ready for this? Puck?”
She narrows her eyes. “You did not just suggest naming her after a rubber disc.”
“I absolutely did. It’s clever. She’s tiny, fast, and changes direction without warning.”
“She doesn’t belong on the ice.”
“That remains to be seen,” I say before glancing down at the kitten now stretched across my thigh, purring like an idling engine.
Lilah watches us with a smile. “She likes you.”
I meet her gaze. “Hopefully she’s not the only one.”
Lilah swallows as her hand trails lightly down the kitten’s spine. “What about Waffles?” she asks, clearing her throat. “Too ridiculous?”
“Absolutely not,” I say with a grin. “Waffles is perfect.”
“Okay then, it’s settled.” She gives a decisive nod and scratches under the kitten’s chin. “Welcome home, Waffles.”
Waffles purrs louder, as if she’s in complete agreement with her newly bestowed name.
Lilah leans her head on my shoulder and, unable to help myself, I press a kiss against her hair. One of my hands rests gently on her thigh as the other strokes the small bundle of fur snuggled between us.
I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more content.
When she shifts, stretching her legs out toward the coffee table and flexing her feet with a sigh, I say, “Give them to me. Remember all the foot rubs I gave you in college?”
She hesitates. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say, giving her a look. “I want to.”
A beat passes before she swings her legs into my lap. My hands wrap around her ankle. Her skin is so soft, it sends a jolt straight through me.
Waffles jumps to the floor, batting around a toy I picked up at the store.
I press my thumbs into the arch of her foot, working steadily. I know exactly where to knead to make her melt, and when she lets out a quiet sound as her head tips back against the couch, my blood spikes white-hot and arousal rushes through my veins.
It takes every ounce of focus not to let my mind spiral to places it shouldn’t.
But it does anyway.
Especially when I take in her slightly parted lips or the way her lashes flutter against her cheekbones. She melts into me like I’m the only thing tethering her to the earth.
Doesn’t she realize I could put that same look on her face in other ways if she’d just let me? I’d drop to my knees and worship her the way I’ve been dreaming about for a decade.
As tempting as it is to make a move, there’s no way I can do that.
Not now.
Not when she’s still nursing a broken heart.
But that doesn’t stop me from working my way up her calf. My progress is slow and methodical. I want to drag out this moment indefinitely so I don’t have to stop touching her. Her shoulders sink deeper into the cushions, and tension bleeds from her like a deflating balloon.
“You really do have magic hands,” she murmurs. Her voice comes out sounding like she’s been drugged.
My fingers tighten as my stomach clenches.