Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Dair wasn’t sure with the bully comment if she was.
But she hadn’t shrunk away from him touching her neck.
And she’d melted into his arms when they’d danced.
Further, she hadn’t wanted to leave him with Helena and his father. And she’d had his whisky waiting for him when he returned.
There wasn’t a time in his life that he remembered not knowing Blake Charlotte Sharp.
Though, now was the time he intended to get to know Blake Charlotte Sharp.
He was about to touch her to wake her (but also just to touch her), when his phone buzzed on his nightstand.
Blake jolted and groaned, and then Dair watched in complete fascination as she moved her head to rub her face against his chest.
It was something a little girl would do.
It was sweet, cute, and since she was a grown woman, sexy as all fuck, and his morning wood agreed.
He was watching her, so he saw when she suddenly realized what she was about, and her head shot up.
She winced, and he was sure that was her hangover making itself known.
He grinned.
She focused with apparent difficulty on him.
Her eyes got huge.
He grinned bigger.
Then she rolled off him, onto her back, and slapped both her hands on her face, moaning behind them, “Oh my God.”
He turned to his side and got up on a forearm. “Guid mornin’, me wee bonny Blake.”
“Ugh.”
“How ye feeling?”
“Stop shouting.”
He chuckled.
“Stop shaking the bed.”
He chuckled more.
“Bluh.”
“Ye need to get moving, love. Ye volunteered for the fire department last night. They’ll be expecting ye to pitch up this morning.”
“Oh God. Shut up,” she groaned.
She’d held court with Rix’s firefighter mates last night. She and Davina had them eating out of their hands. He was actually surprised his sister didn’t pull one (and this gave credence to the growing seriousness of the situationship she had going on back at home).
His close presence and Blake hanging on him most of the time was probably the only reason she didn’t.
And, aye.
Her drunkenly hanging on Dair was another indication he wasn’t in this alone.
Sure, a woman with bad manners could paw on a man when she got drunk, he’d experienced that more than once, and he didn’t like it one bit.
But Blake bragging proudly he was her “wedding assistant” and “so very good at it” to anyone who would listen and staring at him often like he built the entire wedding venue with his bare hands was not the same as a drunken woman pawing on him.
“Teasing ye, lass,” he said through a smile. “Ye need water. And coffee. And something in your belly.”
“I need a toothbrush.” She plopped her arms down on the bed asking, “Did you bring my—?”
She stopped herself speaking when her eyes fell to his chest.
“What the hell?” she demanded and then gave another mild flinch as her hangover reacted to her words.
“What the hell what?”
Her eyes came to his. “I thought you retired from rugby.”
“Aye. I did.”
She flung a hand at his chest. “So how are you still that built?”
“I still play, and I’d get the shite knocked out of me if I didnae keep in shape to do it.”
She aimed her eyes at the ceiling, releasing a “Gluh.”
“And I do rugby commentary for the BBC. I’m often on camera, and I’d look like a twat if I talked rugby from behind a wall of flab.”
She tucked her chin in her neck and looked down at herself. “You didn’t take off my dress.”
He felt his smile change before he replied, “It was tempting.” Her gaze cut to him. “Though I didnae think ye’d thank me for it come morning.”
She turned her attention to his lower half. “What are you wearing?”
“My trousers.”
She squinted at him. “Oh my God. You’re a gentleman. That’s so annoying.”
Even if he knew she needed to get up, move about, hydrate and soak up some of the vodka sloshing in her stomach, and what she didn’t need was him shaking the bed, he couldn’t stop his laughter.
“You would have preferred me to strip ye down?” he asked.
“Just tell me you grabbed my tote.”
“Aye.” He tipped his head to the couch.
She looked that way and mumbled, “Thank God.” She came back to him. “You need the bathroom?”
“I can go after ye.”
She stared at him.
He took her meaning.
“How long will it take you?” he asked.
“Probably longer than you can wait first thing in the morning.”
He didn’t doubt it.
In fact, she had some sorcery going on because her makeup still looked perfect even if her hair hadn’t survived the drunken evening and passing out. That didn’t mean it didn’t look fucking smashing, long, fat, shining tendrils tangled on the pillow.
His erection had calmed down, but it was threatening to come back, so he spoke.
“I’ll go first.”
“Good call,” she said.
Dair wanted to kiss her, touch her, something.
He didn’t.
They weren’t there. Not while lying in bed.