Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
"I want to help you, Leah. Let me help."
I cross and uncross my arms because my nipples are practically piercing the thin fabric of this dress. A nice, lumpy wool sweater would be perfect right about now.
My eyes drop for a second to the crotch of his pants. Suddenly, my renegade nipples don't seem so bad, because even as I dart my gaze away, I catch the bulge there that no sweater could hide.
He holds out his arm, tipping his head toward the hall. "I'm thinking it's way past time someone took care of you."
It takes me a moment to get on my feet, even with his arm to lean on, but I push off the cool glass of the tabletop with my free hand, and we fall in step down the hall. The thought of being in the bedroom with him turns the wet spot into a small puddle. This is all new to me, these feelings, the way my body has bells and whistles he can work with just a glance and a touch.
And the way his words make me feel safe is like nothing I've ever known.
It's been a long time since anyone took care of me. I mean, the staff at the house took care of what we needed, and Henrietta and Mr. Fredby cared about us in their own way. But Allister feels different, like I'm his number one focus. It's more than flattering, it's intoxicating.
That voice in my head keeps badgering me. Why would a guy like him pay this kind of attention to a girl like me? Maybe he just needs somebody to save. I've seen it before. I watched Simon and Victor and the rest of the men in my family use women up and throw them away like yesterday's newspaper. My dad never did. Neither does Decker. They're the only two exceptions I've ever known.
I do my best to cool the heat gathering in parts of my body I didn't know could light up like this. Using as few words as I can, I point and tell him what to take, watching him haul my things out to his car. He parked it at the main house this morning, before the limo came to take us to the courthouse.
I'm secretly thankful he doesn't land on the same idea I did, that we could just slide over to the main house and stay.
I want to see his place.
Stay at his place.
See how he lives.
While he loads everything into his trunk, I lean over from where I've been sitting on the edge of the bed and unsnap the braces from my loafers. I need to take the weight off my legs. I've been on them more than usual today, and the ache and the twinges are so bad that if I don't make the swap now, my legs will crumple, and Allister will be peeling me off the floor.
My fingers shake as I try to rush. I pack the metal braces into their nylon bag and reach for the forearm crutches I had him leave by the bed. Before I secure them on my arms, I zip the bag of leg braces shut and set it on the floor next to the last suitcase, just as he strides through the bedroom door. And I can't help it. I may hate myself for it, but I stop and stare, because he's a glorious, squirm-inducing sight.
"One more trip with these, and I'll be back for you." He leans over with a smile. "Saving the best for last."
"Thank you," I say, and he pauses, staring at me again with that look, like he thinks I might disappear in a poof.
"Please, stop thanking me. You deserve so much more than someone to carry your bags, precious." The word stuns me. Our eyes hold a whole conversation of their own for a long moment, and it leaves me breathless.
A minute later, he's out and back with the final bags, and I'm still struggling to find the oxygen in the room.
My dad always called me precious. What does it mean that he plucked that same name out of the air?
Before I can figure out what to do next, he sits down beside me, and my heartbeat kicks up. Then I'm leaning his way, his weight pressing the mattress down so far my body just tips toward him. I'm powerless to stop it, and a moment later, his lips meet mine in a soft kiss that freezes me in place. My mouth goes slack. I'm doing my best impression of a dead fish for my first kiss.
His lips smile against mine, and I wish I could disappear.
A shiver runs through me, head to toe, as a sigh escapes him. It's such a contrast, a soft, intimate sound falling out of this hard, concrete wall of a man.