Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“Tomorrow he’s having his portrait done. We had to commission an artist from Connecticut to fly out.” Greyson dropped his voice to mimic his dad’s imperious tone. “Make sure you capture the defiance in my eyes. I’m not leaving without a fight.”
Wren chuckled, her fingers scraping deliciously over his scalp as he shut his eyes. The fireplace warmed his feet as his legs stretched across the floor, and he was perfectly comfortable sitting between her thighs as she rubbed the tension from his neck.
“It’s all about control. He wrote his own damn obituary and called it in to the New York Times, demanding they print it above the fold.”
Wren continued to massage his scalp as he vented.
“He’s hitting up the private reserve in the wine cellar, flying out members of his board for meetings, and dictating his memoir to some ghost writer that traveled here from California.”
“Shut your eyes and breathe in the lavender.” She placed a cold, padded mask over his face.
He breathed deep, letting the soothing scent seep into his sinuses. “You know, I’d never let anyone else do this to me.”
“I know.”
She massaged the joints between his knuckles. Rat pounced over his legs, playing with some of the cat toys Wren bought. Greyson leaned back, letting the soothing herbs work their magic.
“What oil are you using?”
“It’s a mixture of bergamot and ylang-ylang.”
“I like it.”
She massaged his back and shoulders for several more minutes, then moved Rat to the sofa and took the kitten’s place on his lap, looping her arms around his shoulders. When she brushed her lips to his, he lifted the mask.
“Feel better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Any time.” She moved to rise, but he caught her hips. “Stay. I haven’t held you like this all week.”
She smiled and settled her weight onto his lap. “Is that your way of telling me you missed me?”
“It’s my way of telling you I can’t breathe when we spend more than a few hours apart. And that I’m sorry.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Grey... we’ve been over this.”
Stroking a hand down her thick braid, he admired the intricate twists. “The thought of anyone else kissing you or touching you… I can’t handle it. Never could.”
“No one touches me but you, Grey.”
“Damn right.”
She sighed and kissed him. “Besides. You were right. I think part of me likes your territorial side. I love your attention, even when you’re in a mood.” She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated. “Once I...” She looked away, unable to finish her statement.
He caught her chin. “What?”
“It’s silly. I was just remembering when I showed Keith Doble my boobs just because I wanted you to find out.”
“So he’s dead.”
She swatted his arm. “He doesn’t even live here anymore.”
“You think I won’t travel?”
She looked away.
“I should have stayed.”
“Maybe we both needed space.”
“Why didn’t you date when I was away? I wasn’t around to stop you—”
“You’ve met your brothers, right? They’re just as bad. Besides, I didn’t want to date. I was too sad, worried you’d fall in love with some sea hag and never come back.”
“No escaping me now,” he rasped, toppling her to her back so he could kiss her properly. He pulled back and framed her face. “Will you come back with me?”
Her expression softened. “To your dad’s?”
“I know it’s a lot to ask—”
“Of course, I’ll go with you.”
Relief struck sharp, and he pulled her close for another hard kiss. “Thank you.”
Wren packed an overnight bag, and he carried it out to the truck. It had been twenty years since she’d slept over with him and his brothers. A teasing sense of nostalgia played at the frayed edges of his memory in a way that made him feel like a kid again.
“Remember upside-down days?” She must have been having similar memories.
Greyson smiled as he backed out of the lot. “Yeah.”
Upside-down days only happened when his dad was out of town on business. Haven used to come over with Wren and they would have breakfast for dinner then stay up all night watching old movies.
“This reminds me of that.” She held Rat on her lap with her little bag. “I brought my matching PJ set. I usually reserve them for a fancy sleep.”
“A fancy sleep?”
“Yeah, you know—when you wash the sheets and make the bed all fresh. It’s fancy.”
“So you make your pajamas match?”
“Well, it’s not like they’re coordinated with the bedding or anything that extreme. But I try to put some effort in.”
He chuckled. “Effort for who?”
“The bed, silly.”
“Right.”
When they pulled into his father’s garage beside his collection of antique cars, Greyson let the engine run, everything inside of him hesitating. This wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been for a very long time.
Wren placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I keep having the resounding thought that I don’t want to do this. Then I remember I don’t have a choice.”