Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Her entire body had a pulse as he released her, and she clung to the inventory racks so her knees didn’t give out. She nodded her consent as he opened the door.
In a daze, she watched as he exited the stock room. Astrid, Lilly, Bodhi, and Drummond still gathered in the hall.
Greyson stepped out and looked directly at Drummond and growled, “Watch it.”
The four turned to stare as Greyson exited The Haven.
“Wait until Lady Lovewatch hears about this.” Astrid fanned her flushed cheeks.
Bodhi looked at Wren in confusion. “Did I miss something?”
Drummond frowned. “So, what’s the verdict on earplugs?”
Lilly turned on him. “Seriously, dude?”
Wren snapped out of her daze. “Lilly, find Mr. Drummond whatever he needs. Dad, you and Aunt Astrid need to make sure the studio door is closed for tonight’s session. I need my keys.”
“Where are you going?” Bodhi followed her out of the supply closet and down the hall.
“I have errands to run.”
“Now? We have a class tonight.”
“I can’t make it.”
He stopped, and she paused, realizing the sudden change of plans might trigger an episode. Calmly, she clasped his shoulders. “Dad, you and Aunt Astrid are going to have an amazing class. You’ve got this.”
He smiled as something shifted in his eyes. “You sound like your mother.”
She grinned, never disappointed to hear that. “The towers are out, so if you need anything, use the radios.”
He drew back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I won’t need anything. You go run your errands.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
As soon as she found her car keys, she drove to Jocelyn’s. Her friend didn’t like having her writing time interrupted, and as Wren pounded on her door, she vaguely heard grumbles from the other side—something about the vicious fate of those who rudely interrupted a Viking’s orgasm.
“This is exactly why the Vikings died out.” The door whipped open mid-threat. “Don’t you people—Wren?” Her scowl flipped to a blasé greeting. “Come in.”
Wren didn’t move from the threshold as Jocelyn drifted through the house.
“We really need a secret knock,” her friend continued from somewhere in the kitchen. “I almost castrated you for interrupting my sex scene. Ragnar the Fierce was just about to blow his load.”
“I’m losing my virginity. Tonight.”
Jocelyn’s head popped back around the corner. “About-fucking-time. Let me see what I have in terms of champagne. Give me a sec.”
She disappeared again as bottles clanked from the bar. “So, who is it?”
Wren shut the front door. “What do you mean, who is it? It’s Greyson, of course.”
Jocelyn reappeared with a bottle of prosecco. “This is the best I can do for bubbles and stems.” She snickered, twisting off the cork. “Sounds like an idiom for tits and dicks.”
Wren followed her into the newly renovated kitchen, numb from face to chest. “I thought you’d be a little more shocked.”
“Shocked? Wren, honey, you’re thirty. The shock lies in the fact that you made it this far. It’s about fucking time you got that cherry smashed.”
She blew out a shaky breath, her body processing the strange anticipation in a thousand strange ways.
“My god, look at you. Relax! Fucking is fun.” The cork popped, and she filled two tall glasses.
Wren pulled out a leatherback stool and sat before her legs gave out.
Jocelyn lived too eccentrically to actually cook for herself, but when she got her last six-figure deal, she used a portion of it to design a state-of-the-art kitchen, which mostly functioned as Hideaway Harbor’s largest liquor cabinet.
“I knew you’d eventually break him.”
Wren frowned. “I didn’t break him.”
“Well, not you, per se. Lady Lovewatch has the whole town curious. Which brother will it be? Did you read what she wrote about my event?”
“I did.”
Jocelyn slid her a glass and lifted her own. “To your hymen.”
Wren rolled her eyes and sipped. “It’s a little jarring how much detail Lady Lovewatch was able to gather.”
“Hmm. Yeah. Weird.” Jocelyn took a long swallow and grinned. “But we all knew Greyson Hawthorne was a jealous man, and now look where you are.”
Wren needed to plan for the future, not dwell in the past. “I don’t have much time. I need your best advice, and I need it quick.” She guzzled the prosecco, hoping it might calm her nerves.
“My advice?” Jocelyn’s silk kimono sleeves gathered at her elbows as she dramatically fanned her face and flattered herself. “Well, I am an award-winning author of Norse cock. And the Hawthornes do have old Scandinavian roots.”
“Jocelyn, focus!”
“Right. Well, the first thing I can tell you to do is hydrate. A good battle always starts with a full flask.”
“Okay.” Wren nodded, drinking down her sparkling wine. “Got it, what else?”
She tapped her chin. “Make sure he gets you nice and wet. Otherwise, things can tear.”
“Tear?”
She waved away her concern. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Greyson’s a real guy. I’m used to writing fictional men with baby arms between their legs.”