Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“This is my home office,” he says, pointing at an open doorway as we walk down the hall, and I peek in to see a massive desk with both a laptop and a desktop computer, two possibly thirty-four-inch monitors, a wall of books, and more windows with a view of the mountains. “There are three guest bedrooms and bathrooms on this floor.”
With that, he leads me to the stairs and shows me more guest rooms, a fully equipped home gym—I knew he worked out—and another office that looks like it’s never used, given the empty desktop. On the opposite side of the catwalk is the primary suite, and it takes up the entire second level of this side of the house.
“I remember glimpses of this room,” I murmur as I walk through and drag my hand over the cream comforter. The windows are framed with pretty beige drapes. A closet the size of my entire house makes me salivate. How did I miss that last time? Even drugged, I should have noticed my dream closet.
Attached is another lounging space with a deep-cushioned sofa, a television, and more bookshelves.
“You’re a bookworm,” I say, turning to Connor in surprise.
“I like to read,” he replies, pushing his glasses up his nose, and it makes me grin.
“We have something in common.”
“We have plenty in common, bumble.”
My eyes skim over the titles. It seems my Irishman enjoys thrillers and fantasy, which shouldn’t surprise me, but if I’m being honest, it really does.
“You read Nalini Singh?”
“I do. Have you?”
“Have I? Oh my God, she’s fucking brilliant.”
“Come on, let’s complete this tour, and we can talk books later.”
I press my lips together—holy shit, reader Connor just totally upped the sexy factor here—and follow him to the bathroom, which is more beautiful than I remember. The shower is big enough for a party of six, with glass walls and a beautiful mosaic that mirrors the mountains outside. The double vanity is marble, and there’s a soaking tub that’s … full.
“Did you leave the water in the tub when you left today?” I ask him. “With bubbles?”
“I’ve never used this tub,” he says with a half smile, pulling me against him, my back to his front. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck, making my nipples pucker and my core tighten.
“Then how?”
“I have staff here,” he murmurs. “And I messaged ahead. I want you to get in this tub and soak for a bit. Do you want wine?”
“No, thank you. No alcohol ever again. At least, not for a good while.”
He sighs against me and peppers two more kisses on my skin. “I’ll get you something else, then. Get comfortable, angel.”
After pulling away, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, and I stare at the tub. He had someone fill it, just for me? How many people work here? Why does one person need staff?
“Billionaires,” I mutter as I carefully take off my Dior dress and hang it on the hook behind the door. I remove my matching pink bra and panties, then find a hair tie in my handbag, which I’m glad I hadn’t set down anywhere else in the house. After securing my hair up, I slip into the steaming water and sigh as it envelops me.
Oh holy hell. This is luxurious.
Maybe I need to invest in a hot tub. Maybe a good soak each night would help me sleep better.
I’m contemplating that when the door opens, and Connor returns carrying a cup of tea, which he sets on a skinny table next to the tub.
“Was it still hot enough?” he asks.
“They must have filled this thing with boiling water because it’s still really hot. Are you getting in with me?”
He bends over and kisses me, so tenderly, so softly, it makes my toes curl. With my head back, his finger glides between my collarbone and up my throat to my lips.
I can’t wait to get my hands on this man.
“No. I’m going to let you relax for a while longer, then I’ll dry you off and put you to bed.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I don’t have a watch on me, but I don’t think it’s even nine yet.”
“Those are the plans. Drink your tea.”
“Bossy, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
He saunters out of the bathroom, and I decide to enjoy this hot water, and the hot tea he brought me.
When the tea is gone, the bubbles have popped to nothing, and the water is tepid, Connor returns with an enormous, fluffy green towel and offers me his hand to help me stand.
When I’m out of the water, he wraps me in that towel and pulls me against him. Hugging me close, he rubs his hands up and down my back and kisses my head.
Never, not once in all of my life, have I felt as sexy, as secure, as safe as I do when Connor holds me.