Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
"You should be careful what you wish for."
"If I can't handle you, Tinsley, I don't deserve you."
"Always saying the right things." A small huff leaves her. "You should know, I'm not the best cook; I'm a mess and don't really sit still for long unless I'm working."
"I’m sure that takes all your attention. I don't know how you do those designs on such a small canvas."
A smile starts to form. "You think nails are a canvas."
"Before now I didn't give it much thought. Then I saw your work; yeah, they’re a canvas."
"My mom says I can't sit still, but when I'm drawing, I become utterly still, almost except for my hands."
"Because it takes more from you than it appears." Tinsley’s chin dips, and I see the vulnerability she has when it comes to her work. "Do you ever think about doing other art for work?"
"A little." She shrugs.
I lean up against the kitchen island. The front door opens right into a small entryway and into the living room. There is a gap between the kitchen and the living room, leaving a small space for a table.
"I think you'd do impeccably." I don't think there is much she wouldn't flourish in when she puts her mind to it. In another life, I truly believe she could run a Fortune 500 company.
Tinsley puts her all into everything. Not only that, but all the people around her adore her.
"Thanks for saying that. It means a lot."
"Or we could keep all your work and have it framed for our place." She presses her lips together to suppress a grin.
"This isn't our home."
"I bought it. It's ours technically, since I bought it after our marriage, and you suckered me out of doing a prenup," I tease her.
"What does that mean? You think I took advantage of you?" Her shoulders go back. "Fine, I'll sign one. I don't need your money," she says tartly.
"I'll speak to my law—" I knew she'd be coming in hot on that one.
"Forget it." She throws her hands up. "I changed my mind. I'll keep it and take you to the cleaners." I don't suppress my smile.
"Shall we unpack then?"
"I suppose." She walks up and down the hallway. I give her a minute to figure out there is only one bed. "Pierce!"
"Yes, dear?" I call back.
"There is only one bed." She comes back out.
"I know." I let out a loud sigh. "You cuddle and attack me in my sleep, but I can deal with it." I expect a denigration or a smart-ass remark, but I get something even better.
"Fine, but I want nightly orgasms." Tinsley heads back down the hallway.
"Orgasms imply more than one," I point out. "I'll be collecting."
No smart-ass response comes back at me, letting me know she more than wants them.
Happy wife. Happy life.
Chapter Nineteen
TINSLEY
When I open my eyes, I see a wall of chest, covered in tattoos. I have my head resting on his shoulder, my body plastered to his side. One of my arms is draped over his stomach, and one of my legs is tangled between his.
Pierce has his arm around me, resting on my back.
How did I get here? I don't recall going to bed. I thought I had lain down for a second to play on my phone after I'd unpacked a few boxes. Sure, I should have left my stuff in them. The same as I'd done at my parents, but I was bored and needed something to do. It's not because I have plans to stay. I might be giving this a go, but—Pierce breaks into my thoughts.
"Morning, my little spitfire." I lift my head to meet his gaze. He flashes me a charming lopsided smile that gives me all the warm and fuzzies.
I want this to work. It wouldn't be hard waking up to this each morning. I just don't see how it could. We're from two different worlds, and I'm self-aware enough to know I can be a lot. Even when I try to tone it down. I have terrible self-control. I’m quirky and fly by the seat of my pants. He may find it adorable now, but I’m sure eventually it will wear on him.
"When did I go to sleep?"
"You passed out around nine." His hand runs up and down my back. "You had a big night the other day. I'm sure your body was playing catch-up."
"I've had a big week."
"You have. How are you feeling about that? You're still fighting it." I sit up, sliding over to straddle him on his lower stomach.
"I'm kind of fighting it," I tell him honestly. "This is a trial run. We'll see how it goes, and if you even want to stick around here."
"Bought a house."
"You're filthy rich. This house didn't dent your bank account. It’s a drop in the bucket for you.”