Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"So are you going to join us for a tea party? Please, Daddy? I’ve got a crown for you. You can be the king."
I don't have the time—the London markets are opening soon, and I have deals hanging in the balance, but how can I possibly refuse the offer of wearing a plastic gold crown and partaking in some invisible tea? Besides, I am curious about this version of Carolyn that’s got my daughter all buoyed up.
“All right,” I agree, setting Freya down gently.
“Yay,” my daughter shouts, whooping with delight, and with bossy glee pulls me towards the nest of chairs.
Freya pulls the bunny onto her lap, and I awkwardly take the newly vacated seat around the tiny table. My knees fold uncomfortably under the plastic edge, and the chair groans under my weight like it's unamused by the giant intruding on their world. A crown is unceremoniously deposited on my head, and I see amusement slip into Carolyn’s eyes. The sensual pull tugs harder as I watch her lean forward and pretend to adjust a bear's bow tie to hide her mirth. But the action makes her dress dip low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts, and the sensual pull tugs harder.
Freya directs Carolyn, clapping her hands. “Give the King a cup and saucer, please, Queen Carolyn.”
Carolyn nods, her voice totally solemn and befitting the occasion, "Of course, Princess Freya."
Carolyn’s hand extends across the table as she passes the colorful teacup and saucer to me. Our fingers touch, skin brushing skin, and she jumps at the sudden electric rush. Her flinch is visible even to Freya.
“What’s the matter, Queen Carolyn?” Freya asks, when Carolyn retracts her hand as if burned.
Color floods Carolyn cheeks. "Sorry. Someone must have walked over my grave,” she mutters, avoiding my eyes.
Freya frowns. “What?”
“Nothing, Princess Freya. Perhaps you could ask the King if he will have some cookies with his tea.”
Freya forgets her question and picks up a plate of plastic cookies. I take one and pretend to bite into it while sipping from the miniature cup. “Mmmm… very tasty.”
Carolyn smiles to herself, then completely ignores me and focuses on her own cup of tea.
I feel as though she is trying to calm down, but can’t. I watch her fidget, uneasily crossing and uncrossing her legs under the tiny table. Her bare foot accidentally brushes my calf once. It sends an electric jolt through me and hardens my cock instantly. I shift to hide my arousal, but I continue to watch her throughout. My curiosity has turned into something hotter, my gaze tracing the flush climbing her neck, the way the sundress shifts with her breaths, nipples peaking against the fabric in the room's gentle breeze.
It is a small shock when my phone buzzes in my pocket—a call from outside my girl’s dinky little world. It must be the office. The vibration is insistent against my thigh. A reminder of the real world. In the end, I answer, but keep it brief.
"Hold it—I'll call back in ten."
Pulling the crown off my head, I rise to my feet, knees cracking from the difficult crouch.
I turn to Carolyn, my voice steady, though my gaze lingers on the way the sundress rides up her thigh. "Could you keep your calendar clear on Friday night? It’s a boring charity event, but the board expects us to attend together."
“Sure.” She nods dutifully and lowers her head.
Hmm…she didn’t make faces and didn’t ask who would be there. I lean down to kiss Freya, her cheek soft and sticky. "Thank you for tea, princess." Then I lean down to kiss Carolyn. A habit that died years ago, but I want to see how she reacts. My lips brush her forehead. Her skin is warm under my lips and I again smell the subtle difference. Yes, the perfume is the same, but…
I see the goosebumps that break out across her arms, prickling like a shiver in the sun-warmed room, and her breath hitches audibly. Her chest rises and falls fast. That’s strange. We bear our interactions with politeness that only we know masks a dead relationship. Why is she suddenly breaking out in goose pimples and acting like her heart is about to jump out of her chest at my mere presence?
It stirs me, that reaction, as I straighten. I leave the room with more questions than when I entered. The door clicks shut behind me, and her delectable scent lingers on my lips.
Chapter Eighteen
JULIET
The door clicks shut behind him with a soft finality that echoes in the sun-dappled room, and that is when I start to breathe again—really breathe, my lungs expanding like they've been held underwater too long. The air rushes in, carrying the sweet strawberry scent of Freya's shampoo. I shut my eyes for a second, leaning back against the plastic edge of a doll house, trying to steady the wild thrum in my chest from his kiss on my forehead—warm lips brushing my skin, his breath stirring my hair, leaving me tingling like I've been touched by lightning.