Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I press my lips to the exact spot she drank from and take a swig. Watching her, I slide the glass back onto the table and pull her in for a kiss. This might be the most perfect day ever.
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy
The chef cooked a feast, with far too much food that I was too distracted to remember. I do remember Hunter watching me. His hand on my back. On my leg. We’re all back on the beach, sporting our Uma Thurman outfits. And I’ve eaten one more marshmallow than is good for me. Now I’m hazy with alcohol and sea air and sugar. I need to be lying down. Hunter covers the fire with sand, and we all head back to the house.
My heart starts hammering against my chest. What’s next? Part of me wants to drag Hunter upstairs as soon as possible, strip him naked, and straddle him. But another part of me doesn’t want to break what’s been building between us these last few days. It feels new and fragile and precious, and I don’t want it all to be about being hot for each other. Although, I’m definitely hot for him. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s insightful and kind and patient. As well as having rock-hard abs and shoulders I can’t stop touching, they’re so broad and protective. But I like this guy. It’s more than lust. Although there’s a lot of lust. If we sleep together, doesn’t that potentially change everything?
Katherine and I are hugging each other good night at the bottom of the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hunter filling two glasses with water. Is it insane that I really hope one of those glasses is for me? I like the idea that he’s thinking of me, looking after me, making sure I’m fully hydrated.
Katherine heads upstairs, and Hunter pads toward me. “I thought you’d want water.”
It’s like he’s given me a dozen roses. I grin up at him. “Thanks. That’s kind of you.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, and he hands me a glass. “You want me to carry it upstairs?”
Normally this would be my cue to make a joke about how I think I can manage an entire glass of water myself, or that my poor female muscles can just about manage it. But I don’t. Instead, I say, “Sure. Thanks.”
He gives me a soft smile and gestures for me to go first.
When we get inside the bedroom, he sets the two glasses of water on our respective bed stands, then turns to me. “Do you want to go in the bathroom first?”
I was kinda hoping he’d kiss me again. “Sure,” I say and slip inside to take off my wig and change into my PJs. If I’d known things would take the turn they have this weekend, I might have packed something nicer. Something a little sexier. Not that I have sexy lingerie just lying around at home.
I take my makeup off and brush my teeth as quickly as possible, all the time wondering what Hunter is doing next door. Maybe he just fell asleep.
He grins when I go back into the bedroom, and as we pass one another, he tugs on my shorts. “Cute.”
I settle into my side of the bed. The pillow wall remains where we left it. I think about dismantling it but decide not to. Everything between us seems so ambiguous. We’ve kissed, we’ve told each other we don’t hate each other, but Hunter didn’t make his move as soon as we were on our own. He didn’t even try to kiss me again.
He comes into the bedroom, still grinning at me. He slips between the sheets, partially hidden by the feather wall between us.
“Did you enjoy your day?” he asks, settling down so we’re both lying on our sides, facing each other.
I nod, unsure about what’s next. Are we going to chitchat? “Yeah, it was super fun.”
“What was your favorite part?”
If I were capable of arching an eyebrow, that’s exactly what I’d be doing right about now. “My favorite part?”
“Yeah. Which part of the day did you enjoy the most?”
Is he fishing for compliments? Does he want me to tell him how much I enjoyed his kiss? How my favorite part was sitting on his lap, his hands on my body, confessing that we don’t actually hate each other?
“I’m not sure I have an order for my favorite parts of today.”
“Oh, really?” he says through a smile. His tone is teasing, and I don’t get why he’s holding back. “Kissing you was definitely my number one. Hearing how you don’t hate me was up there too.”
I let out a small laugh. “Nope. Don’t hate you. Well, not today, anyway. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
He holds my gaze for a second, like he wants to say something else, but he seems to change his mind. “Yeah, there’s always room for you hating me tomorrow.” He reaches for the pillow at the top of our pillow wall and tosses it behind him to the floor. “I don’t think we need this.”