Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I strip out of my suit and stumble to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I’m good and hammered, despite my water consumption. I climb into bed, phone in hand, and set three alarms—morning will be rough. In the process, I see I have new messages from Mildred, who I’ve saved in my phone with a tongue-in-cheek spin on her nickname.
Dredful Menace
Nice game tonight.
Lexi tells me Flip and Bowman organized a bachelor party for you. Don’t let Flip buy you too many shots.
Connor
Wish I would have seen this earlier.
I close my eyes for a second. She’ll be asleep. It’s one thirty in the morning. But my phone buzzes on my chest, startling me awake.
Dredful Menace
Flip has a horrible penchant for shots. You should take a painkiller now. I’m sorry about tomorrow’s suckage, but I hope you had fun.
Connor
Why are you awake?
Dredful Menace
Connor
Did you fall asleep on the couch?
Dredful Menace
Maybe.
Connor
I’m sorry I’m not there to put you to bed.
Dredful Menace
Me too.
The inching dots appear and disappear a few times. So I add a bit to encourage her.
Connor
It’s my favorite part of the day.
Dredful Menace
Tell me why.
I’m drunk, and my thumbs feel like sausages, so I switch to voice-to-text, but I have to stop and start again a few times because my words are slurring.
Connor
Because I get to hold you, and you let me.
Dredful Menace
Why do you think I do that?
I hit the call icon.
She answers on the second ring. “Hi, Connor.”
I try on the nickname she’s so fond of. “Hi, Dred.”
She hums into the phone. “Say my full name, please.”
“Mildred.” I like the way it sounds better. And it makes me feel like I’m not everyone else. “Are you still on the couch?”
“I am.” She sighs, and the sound washes over me in a wave of heat. “Because you’re not here to carry me to bed.”
“You like it when I do that?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her voice is soft and breathy.
“Why?”
“Because we’re the same, both afraid to ask for what we want.”
Another soft sigh, the rustle of her blanket. I can picture her, curled up on the couch, blanket half-covering her, cheeks pink, skin warm, hair fanned over her pillow.
“What do you want, Mildred?”
“What do you want, Connor?”
I smile, because this is her way, always throwing the question back at me, proving she’s right. For once, I let my guard down and give her honesty. “I want the softness of your lips on mine. I want to know what my name sounds like when you moan it.” There’s a beat of silence. “What do you want, Mildred?”
“Ask me again when you’re home.”
I chuckle. “Good night, little menace.” Now I guess I know how she feels most of the time when I give her half answers or none at all.
“Good night, sweet villain.”
CHAPTER 20
DRED
“Where are the Babes taking you tonight?”
Connor stands in the open doorway of my “dressing room.” It’s between my private bathroom and the walk-in closet. The three-way, full-length mirror to the right of my vanity gives me an incredible view of my fiancé. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps and shows off the stunning artwork that ends halfway down his forearms. He’s also petting Dewey, and it’s so sweet my teeth ache.
Obviously this makes it a challenge to focus on getting ready.
I manage to pass my mascara wand over my lashes without poking myself in the eye. “Dinner and girl time is what I’ve been told to prepare for.”
He lets Dewey climb onto his shoulder. “They didn’t give you any specifics?”
“Nope.” Lexi took the reins and she’s pregnant, so I can safely assume there will be no club. “I’ve been told Lexi and the girls will pick me up at six.”
Connor rubs the edge of his jaw. “You’re coming home tonight, though.”
My stomach flips at the worry in his tone, and how much I like that he calls this place my home. It’s starting to feel like one, which is as dangerous as it is alluring. I slide my mascara wand back into the tube and meet his gaze in the mirror. “Yes, I’m coming home tonight, Connor.”
“Okay.” The single word drips with relief.
I was at work when he arrived home from New York this morning, and the moment I walked through the door I had to rush to get ready for tonight. We haven’t had time to talk—not about the flowers that showed up at my work this morning or the lunch that was delivered for the entire staff. Or how his bachelor party went. He appeared in my bedroom a few minutes ago and has spent the time since watching me put on makeup, while absently petting Dewey.
I push my chair back and stand, smoothing my hands over my hips. Connor’s gaze tracks the movement, his eyes darkening. I don’t know how much of last night’s conversation he remembers after we switched from texting to a call. He was drunk, so probably not much.