Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
As of yesterday, I’m the wife of Laiken Lennox, star goalie for the Chicago Railers. My brother’s teammate. The man who held me through the night like he’d never let me go. Not in this life or the next.
The moment his gaze lands on me, his expression softens. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, my voice still raspy with sleep.
After setting the tray on the nightstand, he settles beside me, and the mattress dips under his weight.
The tray holds toast cut into neat triangles, a small bowl of fruit, and a mug with steam curling lazily from the top, the scent faint and calming.
“What’s all this?” I ask, pushing my hair back and taking it all in.
“I figured you’d be hungry.” A slow smile tugs at his mouth. “Toast is easier on your stomach. Tea too.”
The unexpected thoughtfulness has my emotions swelling. He lifts the mug, waiting until I push myself upright before placing it in my hands. His fingers linger around mine.
“Take it slow,” he says. “It’s still hot.”
With a nod, I take a careful sip. Quiet satisfaction flickers across his face, as if he enjoys taking care of me.
He picks up a slice of toast and holds it out. “Here.”
“I don’t need—”
“I know, but I want to.” Then he murmurs, “Do me a favor and eat, wife.”
The warmth spreading through me has nothing to do with the tea and everything to do with his deep baritone. I lean forward and take a bite, my cheeks heating as he feeds me piece by piece.
My father died before I was born, and my mom had worked two jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads while growing up. And other than getting a little help from my brothers, I’d learned early on how to take care of myself. No one had hovered or anticipated my needs. I’d had to become self-sufficient.
So allowing Laiken to do this is strange and unfamiliar. But it’s nice in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” I say automatically, even as I lean into the comfort he’s offering.
His gaze never wavers. “Maybe I want to.”
I can’t help but believe that he’s telling the truth.
When the tray is empty, he takes my hand, his thumb grazing my knuckles. “Come on.”
“Are we going somewhere?” I ask as he pulls me into the bathroom.
“I was thinking we could take a shower.”
Even after all the intimacy we’ve shared, my stomach still flips as nerves and anticipation tangle together until it’s impossible to tell them apart.
The tile is cool beneath my feet as he reaches past me to turn the handles. The water begins to run, and it doesn’t take long for the steam to rise, fogging up the mirror until the rest of the world turns hazy and distant.
His gaze stays locked on mine as he strips off the gray sweatpants and steps closer. A slow smile tugs at his mouth before his fingers settle beneath my chin, tipping my head up as he brushes his lips across mine.
“I just want you to know that I really enjoyed last night, and if it were possible to keep you naked and in my bed for the rest of my life, that’s exactly what I’d do.”
My eyes widen, and before I can wrap my mind around a coherent response, Laiken guides me beneath the spray. He stands behind me, his hands gentle as he wets my hair. The warmth of the water seeps into my skin, and it doesn’t take long for my muscles to loosen.
After picking up a bottle of shampoo, he squirts a dollop onto his palm before rubbing his hands together and lifting them to my hair. His fingers gently massage my scalp, as if washing me is something to be savored instead of an item to be ticked off a list. It doesn’t take long for my eyelids to droop as I melt into the steady rhythm of his touch. I don’t think anything has ever felt so amazing.
All right… maybe that’s not altogether true. Last night was pretty fantastic.
“Have I mentioned how much I love your hair? The color reminds me of honey poured straight from the jar,” he murmurs from behind me, close enough for his breath to drift across my temple. “I’ve fantasized about what it would look like draped across my body.”
The image he paints rolls languidly through my head before taking root, and I can’t help but want it too.
He takes a step back and rinses me with the same tenderness, one hand loosely wrapped around my throat as he tilts my chin so the water can stream down my back.
Once he’s done, he moves closer again. Every touch feels deliberate as his mouth presses against my shoulder, ghosting over the column of my throat, before finding mine. As soon as his tongue sweeps across my lips, I open, greedy for the taste of him. He deepens the kiss as his other hand rises to my breast, squeezing and toying with the nipple.