Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“They barely even mentioned Hattie. It was all Finch this, Finch that, like he’s some kind of god.” A sharp scoff follows. “Please. The guy couldn’t wipe his own ass without Daddy and a trust fund to back him up.”
A quiet laugh escapes me before I can stop it. She’s one pissed-off woman, and for once, I’m not the reason.
That thought barely lands when the bathroom door opens, and suddenly, nothing feels funny anymore.
Harlow walks out in a black silk tank and matching sleep shorts, the thin fabric clinging to every beautiful curve, each shift reminding me I have to share a bed with her.
Yeah. This is going to be a fucking problem.
She crosses to her suitcase, all fire and grace, pumping lotion into her palm, completely oblivious to the chaos she’s causing.
“And there’s something seriously off about that maid of honor,” she goes on, working the cream into her arms with quick, frustrated strokes. “It seemed like she and Hattie barely even know each other. How does no one else find this weird? How can Mom and Dad just—”
Her words falter mid-sentence, dying on her tongue as she spins to find me standing there in nothing but my briefs.
A moment of heat sparks in her eyes before a glare takes its place. “What the hell are you doing?”
The audacity in her tone has me glancing down, half-expecting to find something hanging out. Nope. Everything’s covered.
My brow lifts, slow and deliberate. “What?”
“You’re naked,” she sputters.
I tip my head, amused. “It’s called underwear, Goldilocks.”
She crosses her arms, cocking that hip. “A little inappropriate, don’t you think?”
“Inappropriate?” I bark out a laugh. “You’re the one parading around in lingerie.”
Her jaw drops. “These are my pajamas.”
My grunt is sharp, almost a snort. "Right, and my dick isn’t hard enough to hammer a nail into a two-by-four right now."
Her nose wrinkles in disgust. "God, you’re gross."
“And you’re dramatic.”
She bristles, offended. “I am not.”
I slide into bed, my smirk firmly in place. “You sound pretty dramatic to me right now.”
She shakes her head, muttering under her breath about how childish I am, then marches to the bed and grabs every pillow within reach like she’s gearing up for war.
I’m half expecting to be pelted in the face but one by one, she stacks them between us, building a wall.
I lean back, leveling her with a look. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” she snaps, shoving the last one into place with extra force. “And if you want to keep your dick intact, Masters, you’ll stay on your side.”
Jesus, her attitude is extra tonight. That should have me treading more lightly, but…it doesn’t.
“It’s not me you need to worry about, sweetheart. It’s those hormones of yours.” I flex my chest, putting on a show. “Not many women can resist all this.”
She doesn’t so much as blink, her stare flat and unimpressed. “I’m sure my hormones and I will manage just fine.”
I can’t help it, I chuckle, loving how easy she is to bait.
Once her fortress is complete, she eases beneath the covers then clicks off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Silence stretches, thick and heavy, making her presence feel sharper, closer…dangerous.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to ignore the heat bleeding from her side of the bed, to pretend she isn’t lying inches away in black silk.
It almost works, almost, but then…it starts.
A restless sigh. The whisper of legs shifting against sheets. She rolls to her side, then her back, then her side again, hunting for comfort.
The mattress dips and covers rustle, every small movement testing the limits of my control.
When she flips onto her stomach, my eyes snap open, catching her reflection in the mirror above. That silk has raised, a strip of bare skin revealed.
Fuck.
Teeth grinding, I will my dick to stand down, but then…another shift. Another sigh. And then…I snap.
“Goldilocks, what’s the goddamn problem over there?”
She goes still, the pause long before she finally pushes up with a quiet sigh. “I can’t sleep.”
“No shit. You don’t say?”
She ignores my sarcasm, and shoves down her ridiculous wall of pillows, resting her chin on it. “What if Hattie doesn’t actually want this?”
The worry in her voice cuts straight through my irritation.
I roll onto my side, meeting her gaze in the shadows. “What makes you think she doesn’t?”
“Everything,” she says, fiddling with the pillowcase. “You have to admit, tonight was weird.”
I shrug. “I mean, yeah, but this whole situation is weird as fuck, so it tracks, doesn’t it?”
She laughs, small but real. “I guess. It’s just…there was something missing from her tonight. Something every bride should have the night before her wedding. I’m worried this isn’t what she wants, but what she thinks is expected.”
“So, ask her.”
She tenses up at the suggestion. “I can’t do that to her. Not on her wedding day.”
I disagree, but since she’s already shutting down, I let it go.