Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“I’m a very wealthy man, and we both come from known families. Don’t fight me on this.”
“Got it.” I pick up my wine and take a giant sip. He lifts a brow. “Going to police my wine now too?” He shakes his head, making a plate for himself before sitting down next to me.
"I don't want to be fighting with you all the time, Truly."
"I don't either."
"Can we call a truce for now?"
"You blackmailed me into staying your wife for the next year," I remind him. Now he wants to call a truce after getting his way.
"We can spend the next year fighting over that, or we can try and move past it."
I glare at him, taking another sip of my wine.
"That's fine." I take a breath, trying to keep my hurt from showing. I don't want him to know how much he can affect my emotions.
"Good, now eat."
"So are you like my boss now? Just going to be ordering me around?" I roll my eyes but pick up my fork to try a bite.
“If I could simply order you around, things would be a lot different.”
“What does that mean?”
He only shakes his head at my question. “Eat.”
I shove the bite into my mouth because I am starving, not because he ordered me to. A small moan leaves me. He’s a freaking talented cook too. I see Blake’s jaw harden.
“What did I do now? You told me to eat, and I did.” He doesn’t answer me, taking a few bites of his own food.
“Do your parents know you’re back?”
“I didn’t tell them. If you haven’t noticed, we’re not tight.”
“Tight.” Another shake of his head.
“Your headshakes are starting to get annoying,” I tell him. My cheeks are suddenly feeling warm. Exactly how much of that wine have I had?
"I'll try to control them."
"Don't be a smart-ass." The words slip right past my lips.
He cocks his head toward me and smirks. "I wasn't trying to be. This is challenging." He goes back to eating, and I do the same. His words are bouncing around inside my head. "Do you want more?" he asks when my plate is cleared.
"Food? No. Wine, yes." He takes both of our plates over to the sink.
"Are you sure you want more wine?"
"Are you going to be my daddy now too?" He sucks in an audible breath. "You want to shake your head at me, don't you?" I can't fight a smile.
"But I didn't." He grabs the bottle of wine and pours me another glass before going to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water to sit next to it. "Truly, I'll be a good husband to you if you let me."
Even sitting in one of the high-top chairs at the kitchen island, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Do you think you've been a good husband thus far?" He glances away from me and then back, seeming to contemplate my words. I swear if he says he has, I might lose it.
"I thought I was doing what was right."
His words surprise me. "Is it what you wanted to do?"
"Personally?" I nod. "No." Right. Of course he hadn't wanted to get married to me. He was forced into it.
"I wanted to be your wife," I tell him. "But you knew that, didn't you? I always had a crush on you." I lick my lips, and his eyes drop there. "Back then," I add for my own pride.
"But you no longer have a crush on me?" I shake my head no. What I have is far past a crush. He reaches over and grips my chin, moving in closer to me.
"I'm your wife. We have passed crushes and me being a silly girl."
A whisper of a smile appears. "I enjoyed when you were silly, always full of light."
"And you were always cold."
"To you?"
"I suppose not back then. When I was younger."
"I promise you, Truly, that when it comes to you, I'm far from cold." This I believe. He'd been pissed today in his office.
“You’re angry when it comes to me.”
“Yes, I am angry about how things have played out. It’s not ideal.”
“Ideal.” I roll my eyes. His hold on my chin tightens.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he tells me. I’m sure my eyes widen in surprise at that.
“Why?” I ask because this has taken a sudden turn that I was not expecting.
“Because I’ve been dying to know what you taste like.” He’s slow as he leans down, giving me the chance to pull away, but I don’t.
I want him to kiss me, and tomorrow I’ll blame it on the wine. This sounds like a perfectly good plan.
A groan leaves him the second his mouth meets mine. I let my eyes fall closed, wanting to feel every part of this kiss. How long have I craved to know what it would be like the first time he kissed me? My imagination couldn’t even have dreamt up what it feels like in reality.