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)
The faint scent of honey and vanilla wraps around me. It’s both comforting and familiar.
Even before I open my eyes, my pulse kicks. My body knows. Maybe my brain hasn’t fully caught up, but everything else has.
When I finally blink into the early morning light, the view stuns me into stillness.
Lilah is tucked against me, her legs tangled with mine, her cheek resting over my heart like she was always meant to be there. The tie of the robe she’s wearing has loosened during the night, and the plaid fabric has slipped so that it barely clings to her curves.
There’s smooth, creamy skin everywhere.
Her bare thigh is draped across me, and the dip of her waist is exposed beneath the open material, along with the gentle swell of her hip that peeks out just below the edge of the covers.
Jesus.
I don’t move as every muscle in my body goes rigid and my brain scrambles to process what the hell is happening.
Because this isn’t a dream or even one of those half-awake fantasies I’ve been torturing myself with since the night she moved in.
This is real.
Lilah Monroe is in my bed, wrapped around me, her exhalations steady as they fan across my collarbone. Her lips are parted slightly, and her face is peaceful in sleep.
All I can think about is how close we are and how damn right it feels.
How completely bowled over I am by her without her even trying.
She shifts, and her lips brush the skin just above my heart.
Fuck.
My control, already fragile, splinters completely apart.
I clench the sheets, as if that will somehow anchor me to reality, giving me the necessary restraint.
Because there’s no way I can touch her.
Even though all I want to do is run my hands over her.
Her lashes flutter, and for a second, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t seem to realize where she is. She simply nestles closer, releasing a contented sigh that undoes me in ways I don’t have words for.
We stay like that, suspended in quiet, for just a moment as her eyelashes feather shut again and our bodies remain tangled.
When her eyes blink open for a second time, she freezes. Her body stiffens against mine as the realization of where she is and who she’s lying against sinks in. Her gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, our eyes lock.
“Oh my God,” she chokes out, bolting upright so fast she nearly tumbles off the bed. She grabs the sheets and yanks them up to her collarbone like I haven’t already seen more than that robe was ever meant to hide.
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips as I prop myself up on one elbow and watch her unravel. “Morning, lucky charm.”
Her cheeks flush a deep, gorgeous shade of red as she clutches the blankets tighter. “Steele, we… um… we didn’t…”
She trails off, clearly struggling to make her mouth cooperate with her brain.
Is it terrible that all I can think about is how damn adorable she is when she’s flustered?
“Nope,” I say, dragging out the word with a lazy grin. “But if we had? Trust me. You’d remember it. There’d be zero confusion.”
Her mouth opens and then closes. The blush heating her cheeks creeps down her neck like wildfire, and with a groan of embarrassment, she drags the blanket over her head.
I chuckle, but under the teasing, my heart is pounding. Because waking up with her in my bed and tangled up in my sheets is everything I’ve ever wanted.
And I meant every word I said last night.
I love her.
Lilah peeks out from beneath the covers, obviously weighing her chances of a quick escape. After a beat, she lets out a small, awkward cough and sits up, still clutching the sheets like they’re her last line of defense.
“I should probably go make breakfast,” she mutters, gaze darting everywhere but at me.
Decision made, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and rises to her feet before fumbling with the robe, retying the belt. Then she’s on the move, heading for the hallway.
Just as she reaches the door, I say, “Lilah.”
She stutters to a stop but doesn’t turn.
“You don’t have to run,” I say quietly. “Not from me.”
Her spine stiffens slightly, and when she finally looks over her shoulder, uncertainty flickers in her eyes. “I’m not running.”
I think we both know that’s not true.
My voice gentles. “Yeah, you are.”
“I’m making breakfast,” she says before disappearing around the corner.
Even though every instinct screams at me to follow her, I don’t move.
As much as I want to chase her, what Lilah needs right now isn’t pressure.
She needs space.
Time to process.
Time to figure out what she wants.
And I hope when she does…
She realizes that what she wants is me.
17
LILAH
Igrip the kitchen counter, hoping it will ground me in the here and now, as my heart continues to slam from waking up entwined with Steele. There’s no way to forget how his body heat soaked into me. Or the low raspiness of his voice as it wrapped around me like a blanket, cocooning me in comfort.