Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
She spins around quickly without answering me, pours the water, and whisks madly. “I can’t do that.” Her soft response drifts up. “It’s a mercy offer.”
“It’s not a mercy offer!”
“Working for you would be complicated.” There’s an if that she hasn’t tacked on, so I wait for it, frozen solid.
“How so?” After an eternity, I edge closer and push my finger through the handle of the mug, dragging it to the edge of the island.
Bellatrix stands by the sink, so there’s a good few feet between us. “It would be complicated if we were dating. Maybe.”
I don’t know what the maybe is. The dating part, or the complicated part. And maybe she doesn’t know either, but she’s the one who moves first. Her overalls swish with her big, hurried steps as she strides over to me, fists her hand in my shirt, and looks up at me. Her pupils are completely dilated, her lips soft and rosy and so inviting.
“I’d like to play you like I play the piano. I’d like to be magic with you.”
“Yes,” I hiss-squeal, sounding far too high-pitched. Is this really happening? I have only one honest response to give her, even if honesty isn’t always the best policy. Even if I should probably shut it down and use logic and reason and go slow. “Magic with you sounds like the best thing ever.”
Chapter thirteen
Bellatrix
Rowleigh is the best magic. The growly sound that escapes from his parted lips is the best sound ever. His eyes are dark and smoldering, his blown pupils darkening his irises to coal.
I grasp his shoulders and make sure there’s not even room for air to pass between our bodies. He grins again, and when I surge up and press my mouth softly to his, his arms close around my back. He holds me close while he opens his lips for me, angling his face so he can turn the kiss into something that I feel all the way down to my toes.
“I missed you,” I mumble against his lips. “Even if we know nothing else, know that. It’s true. All of me missed this. Your hugs, your mouth, your smiles, the sound of your voice, your man smell.”
“Man smell?” he grunts. “That sounds kind of gross.”
“No,” I purr, arching up against him like an exceptionally needy feline. “It’s not gross at all.”
I rub my hand over his cheek. He’s sporting a young beard. “You didn’t shave.”
“Not since I left. I didn’t have the energy, and then…I kind of liked it.”
“I really like it.” I like how it scratches against my cheeks and rubs against my lips. The burn is delicious. I know I’d like it scratching other places. All the places.
His tongue parts my lips and finds mine. My knees get so wobbly that he turns me around so that I’m up against the island. He kisses me until I’m breathless, his tongue doing amazing tongue things that I didn’t even know existed. Then, he grasps my hips and sets me down on the counter, just far enough away from the mugs of tea so I won’t knock them over.
“Strip me naked and drink that matcha off my belly,” I murmur.
We both freeze. My hands are on his face, rubbing up and down his new beard. It’s like petting a shaggy dog in a good way.
“I…if you want to,” I add in a whisper.
His eyes trace the counter, measuring distance and probably doing some amazing and complicated mental math mixed with physics.
And then he unbuckles my overalls one buckle at a time. The overalls pool at my waist since the top is so loose. He leaves them for a minute, his big, strong, gorgeous hands slipping under my shirt and stroking my skin such that my head falls back. He makes a noise that sounds half tortured, half delirious.
His hands continue to explore under my shirt, pushing it up inch by inch. “Are you sure?”
I nod, kissing his chin and running my lips and cheek over his sandpapery cheek until I blindly find his mouth.
He makes me feel all the emotions, but mostly, he makes me feel like this is right. I’ve never felt like it was truly safe to be me with anyone I’ve ever been romantically involved with. They never wanted the real me. I didn’t even really know who that was. I’m a people pleaser, and I lost sight of myself.
I’m still learning, but with Rowleigh, I feel like I have a safe space to do that.
It’s too soon, he’s too old for me, he’s my best friend's dad, he’s wildly rich, and he doesn’t like tacos. All those things are true, but it doesn’t change how much I want him. For the first time ever, I don’t feel like I have to change who I am to be worthy or treasured.