Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Now that London was a mere floor above me every night and every morning, my body was strung so taut, I might as well have been celibate for a decade.
That morning I woke up around five-ish. Almost the entire left wall of my bedroom was a wrap-around, floor-to-ceiling window. It was a nice detail, but it meant installing the best blackout blinds money could buy. Therefore, the sunlight no longer woke me.
Like the past four mornings, my London body clock alerted me before my alarm did. I groaned at the time and since I knew there was no way I’d fall back asleep, I got up to shower and used the time to fantasize about walking upstairs and getting into London’s shower with her.
It took the edge off but nowhere near enough.
Later as I dragged out getting dressed to shorten the amount of time London and I would spend in the kitchen together, I even considered staying in my room until she left.
I shook my head at my childishness and made my way upstairs to the kitchen. A glance across the hall into London’s bedroom revealed her unmade bed. An image of her undulating beneath me in her bedsheets flashed across my mind, sending hot blood southward. I glanced hurriedly away, cursing under my breath as I replaced the image with thoughts of fish guts and bait.
It did the trick as I strolled into the kitchen, hoping I appeared normal.
London sat at the island, sipping a mug of coffee, a half-eaten bowl of granola and yogurt in front of her. She looked up from scrolling through her phone and gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’.” I nodded and then grimaced as soon as my back was to her. I mouthed fuck to myself as I turned on the coffee machine.
We talked more before we got married, for Pete’s sake. I had no idea what had gone wrong. We seemed fine the first night when I cooked her dinner. Of course, I’d had to leave her because I felt like I was on the verge of making a move on her after she mesmerized me with her piano skills.
So humble about it too.
She’d also confided in me about her childhood. Trusted me with it.
But then the next day … there was this guarded tension between us again.
I stared at the tiled wall in front of me, trying to think of something to say that might break whatever strangeness had flared between us.
“I saw Laird yesterday afternoon at the harbor. He mentioned you might be going on a fishing trip?”
At the toneless question, I finally turned around to face her. London didn’t look at me, however, as she continued scrolling through her phone. Her hair was pulled up in a bun as it always was for work, but little tendrils caressed her temples and cheeks. I’d been itching lately to tuck them behind her ears simply for an excuse to touch her.
“It was obvious I didn’t know about it, which was a little embarrassing since I’m supposed to be your wife and all.” She threw me a tight smile before returning her attention to her phone.
Fuck.
Her words and tone brought me out of my teenage crushing and into reality.
“I’m sorry.” I crossed to the island, hoping she’d look at me. “I was considering it. Sometimes I like to go out with the lads on a longer haul when Kelly isn’t here.”
“Laird said this one is for ten days.” London finally put her phone down. Her expression was flat. She had stunning eyes. Her irises were turquoise except for a rim of dark green (or perhaps gray?) around the outer edge. I’d never seen eye color like it, and they were striking against her red hair and fair skin. Usually there was a lot going on behind those eyes, but right now they were irritatingly hard to read.
“It was just a thought.”
“Right.” She let out a huff of laughter, but I could have sworn I saw hurt flicker across her features. “Let’s be real, Murray. You’re trying to get away from me. I’m sorry this is weird, but you were the one who agreed to—”
“No, London, no.” I rounded the island now. “I’m not … you’re not—” My phone suddenly rang loudly in my arse pocket and I growled in frustration. My bloody phone and its constant prattling! “Shit. Just give me one second to answer this and then you and I need to talk.” But as I pulled out my phone, London hopped off the stool.
“We’ll talk later.” She wouldn’t meet my gaze as she brushed past me.
Bloody hell. I was about to call after her when I saw it was Kelly calling. “Kelly?” I answered immediately.
Her quiet sob shot fear through me.
“Kelly, m’eudail, talk to me.”
“Daddy,” she cried. My daughter hadn’t called me daddy in years.