Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“That’s not gonna work,” he murmured to Checkers, who was keeping watch over his new favorite person from the back of the couch.
Finn slid his arms under her slowly, not wanting to disturb the first moment of peace she’d known all day.
She jolted hard as he lifted her up, but he just pulled her more tightly to his chest. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
As he walked, she seemed to go more and more lax against him, likely from a lifetime of the comfort of currents in her sleep. He couldn’t help but wonder if her sleepy mind confused his arms with those same currents, like something safe and steady.
He placed her gently down on his bed, pulling the covers up over her body. He was incapable of fighting the urge to swipe her soft pink hair from her pretty face.
But he didn’t let himself linger; he just gathered his pillow and then went to sleep in the living room.
Where he drifted off with the scent of her in the cushions and all over him, giving him vivid, steamy dreams he had no right conjuring up for a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
He wanted to believe that could change.
Not because of polls or favorability ratings.
But because every time she let her guard down—even a little—it cracked something open in him too.
And he didn’t want to close it again.
7
Iris
Iris woke up slowly, then all at once, jolting upright in an unfamiliar bed in a strange room, all of it washed in that aged driftwood smell that clung to Finn like a second skin.
How had she gotten in his bed?
For one horrified moment, she worried she might have followed her desire right into his room. She felt a wave of relief when she realized she was still fully dressed, tragically.
Sure, some part of her was A-okay with the idea of getting naked and glandular with Finn. Especially after that delicious foot massage and the way such a chaste touch somehow managed to spark little fires of need to break out through her body. She was a mermaid, after all. They were sensual creatures. She enjoyed getting warm and steamy with a partner as much as the next person.
The other part of her, though, that still found Finn—even after hours in his company—stuffy and stiff, constantly bringing the conversation back to politics and surface-level observations, wanted nothing to do with some base, biological response to a man she was being forced to marry.
“That’s enough of that,” she mumbled to herself as she climbed out of bed, feeling aches in her land legs she hadn’t anticipated. She went into the bathroom to brush out her hair before changing into one of the outfits Henry had left for her—long, flowing pale blue pants in a material he’d called ‘linen’ and a tight, white, silky top he’d called a camisole, though she couldn’t quite remember what else he’d said about that particular garment.
There was a rich, thick scent in the air as she made her way into the common area.
“What is that?” she asked, sniffing the air.
“That, my sweet sea spawn, is ground-bean juice,” Monty declared, producing two mugs (gray, of course, like everything in Finn’s home). “The humans call it ‘coffee,’ and I find it is best served with a lot of cream and sugar. Enjoy.”
She took the mug, the heat teasing her fingers, making a shiver rack her system. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“That is what the human women call Women’s Winter.”
“Women’s Winter?”
“That’s when the temperatures outside skyrocket, so the men set the internal temperatures to frigid. And the women freeze.”
She certainly felt like she was freezing. Little bumps had pebbled up all over her skin.
“Monty, do you have any idea how I wound up in Finn’s bed?”
“Seeing as he was asleep in the living room this morning when I came out to look for Check—a snack …” the pelican caught himself “… I would assume he did the thing every swoon-worthy romantic lead would do. He carried you to bed.”
She went ahead and ignored the way her chest warmed, and her belly swooped at the idea of that.
Too many romance novels, giving her subconscious all sorts of silly ideas.
“I can’t believe I have to tell you this again, but you can’t eat Finn’s cat.”
“I haven’t touched him,” Monty declared, but the way the cat hissed at the pelican when he looked over told Iris all she needed to know.
“Didn’t you eat enough last night?” she asked. Her mind wandered back to all those foreign meals and the pleasant explosion of strange new tastes and textures across her tongue. She’d particularly enjoyed the pizza and fries, even if Monty declared they were ‘very bad’ for them.
“Apparently not,” another voice said as the apartment door closed. “Because he had me order break—”