Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
A pair of sweatpants hangs low on his hips. He’s shirtless—because, of course, he is. His feet are bare, too.
It’s been too long since I’ve had sex. I’m not strong enough for this level of visual temptation.
His chest is wide and dusted with hair, and his shoulders rise to his neck in thick layers of muscle. Lines are etched into his abdomen imperfectly because they were created by hard work, not a gym. His arms are a map of hills and valleys as one muscle runs into the next, and the tattoos on his left shoulder that I’ve only seen in a couple of shirtless videos online are so fucking sexy in person.
My lord.
The man is a work of art.
“I thought I heard the shower turn off,” he says, one foot resting casually on the bottom step. Mischief dances along his features. “I thought we could order a pizza for dinner. Figured you’d be too tired to help me make anything.”
My skin tingles at the look in his eyes—the one that says he’s been thinking about eating, and it has nothing to do with dinner.
I grin, easing my grip on the towel slightly so it drops low enough to expose the tops of my breasts. I pretend not to notice.
He notices, though. His gaze drops immediately to my chest.
“Good call,” I say, squeezing my chest together. “I’m exhausted after everything today. I might even take a quick nap.”
His gaze sears a path from my décolletage, up my neck, across my jaw, and to my eyes.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say coyly.
He licks his lips as I turn away and head for the bedroom.
By the time I reach the doorway, I’m practically panting. My heart pounds with anticipation. He wanted me last night—we both know it. I made it clear that I wanted him. The ball is in his court. Will he pick it up? I groan. Please let him pick it up.
I close the door and toss my towel on the bed. I reach for a cute leisurewear set in my suitcase when my attention falls on something else.
“Aha,” I say, pulling it from the depths of my bag. A grin splits my cheeks. “This will do far more for me now than it would’ve on my honeymoon.”
I slip on the emerald-green see-through baby doll-style lingerie and the tiniest thong known to man. The sides are cut, exposing my hips when I move. It was marketed as “fun and flirty,” which is exactly what I need right now.
“Let’s see what you think about this, Luke.” I twirl in the mirror, watching how the fabric shifts to obscure my nipples one moment and then make them completely visible the next. “I hope this drives you crazy.”
I move into the en suite and add some product to my hair and a touch of lip gloss to my pout. Then I add a coat of mascara, too. Why not? Go big or go home. I start to leave but turn back and give myself two squirts of perfume.
“Hey, Laina,” Luke calls from the living room. “What do you want on the pizza?”
I find the matching robe with the satin edges and minutely thicker material. Then I slip it on.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper and open the door. “What did you say?”
“What do you want on your pizza?”
I peer down into the living room but can’t see Luke. The television is on a sports channel, and his voice comes from not too far away. He must be on the couch.
Excitement blooms in my stomach as I reach the top of the stairs.
What will he say? What will his reaction be? I’m not the little girl he remembers.
“Pepperoni is good,” I say, my voice perfectly detached. I don’t look at him as I take the first step. “Anything but sardines and onions I can—”
“Holy fuck.”
I win. I lift my chin and pretend not to hear him clamor to sit upright. “Handle.”
“For fuck’s sake, Laina. Damn.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, knowing full well he’s about to get a glimpse of my bare ass as I walk by. “What’s wrong, Luke?”
“Stop it. Just stop it,” he says, the words ending on a growl. “No. Don’t stop it. Come here instead.”
“I’m going to get a glass of tea. Do you want anything?”
“Yeah. But it isn’t tea.”
He scrambles to his feet as I round the corner and out of his view.
I make myself a drink I’m wholly uninterested in to keep busy. I want him to want me. I want him to sweat.
“Did you order the pizza?” I ask sweetly. “I’m starving.”
“I can’t … what?”
I look over my shoulder. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his mouth agape.
“Pizza,” I say slowly. “You were ordering pizza. Remember?”
“Nope. I don’t.” His gaze drags down my body inch by inch. “I don’t even remember my name right now. Damn, Laina. You are fucking gorgeous.”