Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I heard his grunting, felt his pounding come stronger, faster, and I pushed myself out of swimming through the depths of pleasure so I could watch when his handsome head snapped back, the muscles and veins in his neck straining, as he drove into me repeatedly through his climax.
He gentled his thrusts, his fingers moving tenderly over my thighs, his gaze never leaving me.
I lay before him, on display, feeling beautiful, feeling powerful, feeling loved, under the open warmth and affection that he had written all over his handsome face.
I wasn’t sure which expression I liked better.
Thankfully, I got both.
What I did know in that moment was, unless something wild and unforeseen happened, I was going to be the next Duchess of Burleigh.
I wasn’t the candidate.
As ludicrous as it seemed, from the moment I walked into this house, it claimed me.
And from the moment I laid eyes on this man, he did.
Naturally, this made me deliriously happy.
He fell forward onto his hands at my sides, did the downward part of the pushup and brushed his lips against mine.
“Best lasagna I’ve ever tasted, darling,” he said there.
Oh yeah.
I’d made it for him.
And oh yeah.
He’d liked it.
Also yeah.
So did all the girls.
And the last yeah, and maybe the best part, after we ate it, Battle came downstairs and helped me clean the kitchen.
Straight up, as crazy as it sounded, of the many things that made him insanely attractive, watching him dry a plate was one of them.
“I have to shower and go,” he murmured.
I frowned and wrapped my arms around him.
“Keep me with you today,” he said.
I didn’t get that.
“Pardon?”
He tensed his hips between mine, forcing my lips to part, because that felt so good.
“Don’t wash me away.”
One could say this was a turnabout from our condom discussion.
“Can you go back to sleep with me slipping out?” he asked.
Right.
Was I weird?
Why was this convo turning me on again?
“Yes,” I answered.
“Good,” he whispered, touched his mouth to mine and bid, “Go back to sleep. I’ll kiss you again before I leave.”
“Do you want me to hustle down and make you some breakfast?” I offered.
“I don’t want you to move.”
I smiled at him and smoothed a hand over his hair.
He kissed me, no brush on the lips this time, before he slid away, arranging the covers over me.
I watched him walk to the bathroom.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, hearing the water of the shower going and knowing he was in there, wet and soapy and naked, that I could fall into a drowse.
But that was what I did.
I woke up when I felt the covers pulled up to my shoulder and then tucked in.
I turned my eyes to the sides to catch him dipping in.
He kissed my temple.
“Back to sleep,” he said when he pulled away. “We’ll connect during the week. And I’ll see if Janelle can rearrange my schedule so I can be back Thursday night.”
Janelle, I’d learned yesterday, was his PA.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” I said unconvincingly.
“If it were up to me, I’d pack all those crates in the Audi and take you with me. But you’ve made the studio your space. I’m not creative, but I know a creative needs their space. Am I wrong?”
“No, but—”
He sat beside me on the bed. “And I work all day, darling, late. No point you being stuck at Burleigh House alone only for me to come home, us to eat then fuck and me to leave you alone again in the morning.”
I could argue this, but I wasn’t going to.
Because I had work to do at The Downs, and not only book work.
“In order that we can continue to get to know one another,” he went on, “and I can do my part in alleviating Tempie feeling the need to be here to look after Chassie, I’m going to ask Janelle to arrange my schedule so I can work from here half a week. After this week, I’ll try to sort it so I’m home Wednesday evening.”
I smiled brightly.
He kissed it from my lips.
When he lifted his head, he ordered, “Now, go back to sleep.”
“You be careful on that motorway,” I ordered in return.
“Always,” he murmured.
Another lip brush, a sweet, sexy smile.
Then he was walking away.
Late that afternoon, I was in the studio, marking photos I wanted to ask Battle if I could use to reproduce in the book, when my phone, lying on the desk, vibrated.
Since Snowball was napping on it, she let out a displeased mew, rolled and glared at it.
I left the photos arranged across the chaise, went to the desk, saw the call was Battle, so I took it right away.
“Hey, honey,” I said, rounding the desk and sitting in the chair.
“How’s your day been?” he asked.
“Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”
“Shit,” he muttered.