Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Knowing I won’t be able to retire for the night with the kitchen a mess like she left it, I start by cleaning up the dishes, then load the dishwasher before running it. I fill my glass with water from a pitcher and take a pill for my head and to help with the throbbing in my arm under this cast. It was too late to pick up the prescription. That’s what I get for choosing the local pharmacy instead of a chain, so this will have to do. I got hit by a car, so I can survive one night on Ibuprofen.
I lock the balcony door and double-check the front bolts. Working my way around the apartment, I shut off the lights as drowsiness sets in. I check the spare room to find the bed made up and ready for guests. She can sleep in here for the night. Come tomorrow, she’s out of here—my bed, my apartment, and my life.
I walk into my bedroom to see her curled up on the bed under the covers. Her hair is damp, and her face has been cleaned of old makeup. She’s more beautiful like this, sleeping like an angel in my bed. When I see the shirt that she chose to wear, I grin. Of all the T-shirts in the closet, she chose one that represents me more than most—my alma mater.
Letting her rest, I brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Although it was a struggle to get on, I have no trouble pulling the shirt off over my head. I leave my sweatpants in a pile on the floor, which isn’t like me at all. I’m too tired to care.
I return to the bedroom to see her still lying in the same position. She might be more tired than I am. I can’t move her to the other room. That means I’m getting z’s next door. But I stop before I leave the room and look back. “Fuck it,” I mutter, then turn off the lamp and climb in next to her.
The bed is large enough for us to sprawl out and still never touch. It feels so good to be lying here again, and way better than that hospital bed. I look to my side again since enough moonlight has determined it’s also spending the night with us.
I reach over and run the back of my fingers over the soft skin of her exposed neck. She doesn’t stir as if this comes naturally between us. She’s not my wife. I know it deep down. If she were, I’d feel it in my bones. I just know it. But she’s been nice company to have around, and she makes a great pancake.
We have a lot to discuss tomorrow, but here in this bed tonight, I’m glad she stayed.
CHAPTER 7
Delaney
The light of early morning pours through the window, causing my lids to flutter open. My head spins like I got wasted at a bachelorette party instead of experiencing the mayhem of bad decisions. I had hoped rest would balance my overwrought brain, but the dizziness of the situation says otherwise.
The reprieve while I rested is only temporary as the unfamiliarity of everything surrounding me causes panic to rise in my throat. The air smells of some exotic location—musky with a warmth of sweetness, homey, the soft sheets against my bare legs, the coziest bed I’ve ever slept in, the weight of a warm hand on my inner thigh—Hand?
My eyes fly open as I suck in a harsh breath. Fear races through my veins, but I still my breathing, harboring the next breath in my chest. Turning my head slowly, I’m careful not to disturb the person next to me.
Just enough light streams into the room to see Warner lying on his back next to me. My heart is quick to find a rhythm with the sound of his steady breathing, calming my initial concerns. He’s handsome when he sleeps, like he is when he’s awake, but more so when he’s not speaking. He sure has a knack for pushing buttons, especially mine. In the peace of his sleep, I can pretend he’s not an awful human being trying to destroy my family’s lives.
I can even find comfort in the warmth of his hand between my legs. Wait, what? I should shift, but I stay still instead, enjoying the heat his touch radiates to the rest of my body, even reaching my toes.
Lying here, I drape my arm across my forehead and stare up at the ceiling. With Warner’s hand on my thigh and the scent of his soap floating in the air, my thoughts scroll through snapshots of the past twenty-four hours. I let this man believe he’s my husband.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale a deep breath and look at him again. The bridge of his nose has the slightest of bumps, and his full lips appear soft in the morning light juxtaposed against the hard cut of his jawline. The hills and valleys of his muscular shoulders lead my gaze across his chest, but a heaviness weighs on mine, causing me to look away. I take a deep breath, refusing to get caught up in him.