Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
A little while later, he steps out into the firelight with the towels wrapped around his waist, and I spin around averting my eyes but it’s of no use. My mouth waters and my pulse quickens: the view is forever etched into my memory.
I don’t want to look away, but the glimpse of chiseled abs and corded muscle over every inch of him made my face flame hotter than I thought it could get. Absent-mindedly, I snatch some crystals from my worktable and pretend to concentrate on rearranging them. I think I hear some movement near his pack.
When I straighten up again, he has returned, and is wearing a pair of trousers and what looks to be a clean shirt. Better for my racing heart, but I don’t think the color of my face has returned to normal just yet.
“Is there anything else you need?” I look him in the eyes when I say it, though the question feels dangerously close to inviting him into my bed. My voice is a little tight, a little higher pitched than I’d like.
He shakes his head, a noticeable smirk making his handsome face look even more tempting. “Thank you.” The rough tone of his voice seems to connect directly to my clit. Oh the moon plays a deadly trick this evening. I shut down all racing thoughts and tell him calmly, “I think I’ll ready myself for bed.”
The soldier nods, then goes back to the kitchen table and sits while I head to the bathing room.
My hands have never shaken so much from changing into my nightgown and splashing water onto my face. Gripping the handles of the faucet I whisper internally to myself, it’s only one night.
It is probably one night. All the soldier needs is a charge in his crystals, and he will be gone again, back to his life. My eyes lift to the mirror and I tell myself I can keep it together for one night. The poor shifter has been through enough.
I focus on being a good hostess, and nothing more than that.
The first thing I do when I step back into the main room is calm the fire. It does not need to burn all night, but a little heat wouldn’t hurt. It is cooler out with the rain, and might get cooler as the night goes on.
The soldier stands and watches as I find another spare pillow and a lighter blanket than what’s already in the pile on the floor.
“What is this?” he asks when I offer them.
“For your bed.” Saying the word bed to him feels risky, too. As if I’m attempting to seduce him when I am very much not. The cottage is so small. It has seemed so large around me without my coven, and now it feels like I can’t breathe without touching him.
Even though we have not touched. I am very aware of such details.
“I have…” he begins, then stops and reaches for the blankets. “Thank you. I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
His fingers brush mine as he takes the bedding, and goosebumps cover my body. Shivers run down my spine and instantly my nipples harden. It was only a moment of heat, but so much heat. Are shifters always so hot to the touch, or is it him?
“I could put out the fire,” I offer, with my bottom lip dropped just slightly and unable to be brought back up into place.
He raises one eyebrow, looking into my eyes. “If that would make you more comfortable.”
“I thought you might be more comfortable. If you are too warm—”
“I will be fine,” he says, before I can finish. “I am well in fact.” His tone is low with his last statement. Low enough to bring my thoughts back to where they should not be, at the memory of him in a towel.
“I’m…glad to hear it.” More heat on my face, as if the cottage might light ablaze just like the logs in the fireplace. “I will… I am tired. I will go to bed now.”
He nods and begins to turn away, but stops and faces me again.
“My name is Ryker.” He holds out a big, calloused hand to me. “I thought you should know that.”
My body freezes. Ryker.
I take his hand, holding my breath for a few seconds at how powerful his grip promises to be, though his touch is gentle—extremely careful.
“Idalis.”
“Idalis,” he repeats. The rain covers most of the softness in his voice, but not all of it. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
I’m not sure if he intends it to be so, but the way he speaks is seductive. With a smile and a blush, I pull my hand away.
The cottage, which seemed like far more room than I would ever need before this evening, gets closer still. Every other night before this, when I lay down in my bed, the main room seemed to be miles long.