Mr. Notting Hill – Mister Read Online Louise Bay

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Lovely,” Tristan said.

“We have champagne for you,” he said, stopping at the kitchen counter, opening the bottle and then pouring us our second glass since we’d crossed the threshold of the hotel.

We clinked glasses and continued the tour into the bedroom.

“The bed is an Alaskan king-sized,” he said with a glance at Tristan’s tall frame.

“It’s a big bed,” I said, wondering what he was expecting us to say.

“A very big bed,” Tristan agreed, grinning.

“The bathroom has a steam room, a jacuzzi bath as well as a double-headed shower,” the porter said. “You’re going to have a great time.”

After the porter had showed us how to work the air conditioning, told us where the room safe was, and then gave us the number of our personal butler, Tristan assured him that we didn’t need any room service, tipped him, and closed and locked the door.

“I thought he was planning to stay for the week,” Tristan said as he collapsed on the couch. “Why is travelling tiring when you’re doing nothing but sitting?”

“Because you didn’t nap on the plane?”

Tristan laughed. “No one can categorize nearly ten hours of sleep as a nap. Whatever the reason, I’m exhausted.”

“You should sleep. You take the bedroom. I’m fine here on the sofa.”

Before I could move to dig out my toiletries from my case, Tristan scooped me up in his arms and padded into the bedroom. “This is what people do on honeymoon, isn’t it? The groom carries the bride over the threshold?”

“I think that last happened in 1947, but okay.”

He threw me on the bed like I was five years old and playing aeroplanes with my dad.

“Unless there’s a good reason, we can share a bed. We won’t even be able to see each other from our respective sides.”

The idea of ten days on the sofa wasn’t massively appealing. It didn’t take much to sell me on the idea. “I suppose we are married now.”

“You better have packed those cow pajamas, or I won’t forgive you,” Tristan said as he pulled his case open.

“Isn’t this insane?” I asked as I watched Tristan unpack from where I was lying on the bed and definitely not wondering how long it would be until I saw him in a towel.

“The room? It’s nice.”

I propped my head on my hand. “The fact that we’re on honeymoon. Together. We’ve only known each other a little over a month.”

“I’m not sure ‘insane’ is the right adjective. ‘Unusual’ maybe. We should just make the most of it. I know you didn’t want to come, but we’re here. We have this beautiful room. In this beautiful hotel, in this amazing country. Let’s just enjoy it.”

“I suppose we’re stuck here for the next ten days. There’s no escape.”

“Honestly, Parker, I can’t remember the last time I went away on a trip that wasn’t business related. I can’t wait to drink margaritas and lay out in the sun. I figure you owe me a night nursing me and my hangover after your sushi experience.”

I covered my ears with my hands. “Don’t say that word!”

“What word?” He turned to me from where he was putting his t-shirts onto hangers. “Sushi?”

I groaned. “No. I can’t even think about it without smelling vomit.”

“Then you won’t be pleased to hear about the Japanese restaurant just off the lobby. You could eat sushi for breakfast, lunch, and—”

I threw a cushion at him and he finally stopped talking.

“I’ll hold your hair back as you vomit from one too many cocktails and too much sun. Even if you hadn’t done it for me, it feels like it should be my wifely duty.”

Tristan chuckled, stalked out of the bedroom, and came back rolling my case in front of him. “You going to unpack?”

“Maybe in the morning,” I replied. “I can’t move. I’m just going to fall asleep right here.”

He shook his head and heaved the case onto the stand. “I’ll unpack you,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” I replied on a yawn.

“It’s my husbandly duty. Do you mind?”

That was the thing about Tristan. In some ways he bulldozed obstacles and objections, but in other ways he was tremendously reassuring and respectful of my boundaries. If I had designed a man who would fit me, Tristan would be it.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I’ll take that to mean you don’t mind.” I did nothing but watch as he untangled my messy packing and arranged things into drawers and wardrobes.

“You’re very organized,” I said.

“It’s all relative. You’re very disorganized.”

“Am I?”

“Have you seen your flat?”

“Hey! It’s small. There’s just not enough space for everything.”

When he finished, he shut my case and tossed it into a cupboard I hadn’t even noticed. “Tell me something.” He lay opposite me on the bed, his long legs stretched out to the end like a desert road you couldn’t see the end of. His hips mirrored mine, lying sideways on the bed, and my stomach swooped at how near he was. It made no sense. We’d spent ten hours on a plane sitting hip to hip, but somehow the thirty centimeters between us now made me feel closer to him than I ever had.


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