Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
It’s a common question. Sure, I can go hunt her down, but I like calling out the second I get home. The ritual of being able to ask that and knowing Pen will answer is highly satisfying.
Her soft voice carries from the back of the house, telling me she’s in the bedroom. I head that way, mentally shedding off the layers of the outside world as I go. Here, in this space, it’s just August and Penelope. Nothing else matters.
Sunlight streaming through the tall, windowed doors make the bedroom glow with golden light. One of the doors is open, letting in a soft breeze. But no Pen. The faint scent of paint lingers in the air.
“Pen?”
“Up here in the office.”
I take the stairs two at a time and spot her immediately. She’s perched on a ladder that’s resting against the built-in bookshelves. A fresh coat of shiny raspberry-red paint gleams on the back walls of the shelves. She looks over her shoulder and smiles softly, those big eyes of hers lighting up.
It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a few hours since we woke up together, the sight of her never fails to affect me. It’s as though she has her own power source, and whenever I draw near, my body jump-starts. She’s so pretty. Delicate but strong. Clever eyes and smart mouth. And mine. God, I love that.
“Penelope,” I say, strolling across the room.
“August.”
I pause a few feet away, resting a hip against the desk. Pen turns on the ladder to fully face me, and I take a long, lingering look. She’s a feast after a famine. Delicious. I know this now. The knowledge doesn’t ease my hunger, only makes it more rampant. I find myself wanting her all the time.
“Penelope.”
Candy-pink lips curl in a smile. “You realize that, unless you’re using it as a greeting, you only call me Penelope now when you’re in some sort of a mood.”
“Oh, I’m definitely in a mood right now.” Surprise, surprise. “Your full name is sexy.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Hardly.”
How little she understands her appeal. One day, she’ll fully realize it. I’ve made it my job to educate her.
“I’m serious. There’s something sexy about it, purposeful. All those syllables. You can’t ignore it—Pen-el-o-pe. It rolls off the tongue with such intention.”
She tilts her head, eyeing me thoughtfully. “And what is your intention now?”
“To get you to come closer.”
Slowly, she climbs down from the ladder, a saucy look in her eyes as she takes a step in my direction. “Like here?”
“Closer.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she takes a few more steps. “This good?”
Little temptress.
“A little more.”
Holding my gaze, she strolls forward, hips swaying until she’s inches away, then smiles up at me, clearly pleased with her teasing. I am too.
“Mmm. That’s very good.” I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Now kiss me, Penelope.”
Rising to her toes, she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a soft, lingering kiss hello. A sound of satisfaction rumbles in my chest, and I deepen the kiss until she stumbles against me, breathless and eyes shining.
I can’t keep my hands to myself any longer. Without warning, I pluck her up in my arms like a bride and whirl her around. She yelps but wraps her arms around my neck and peppers kisses along my jaw. I love that she takes what she wants.
“I told you I’d help you paint when I got back,” I say.
Pen has been redoing the upstairs office and making it hers. The curtains are no longer white but lime silk. She’s mentioned a set of Billy Baldwin X-benches that she put on hold at an antique store. I have no idea what those are, but Pen was excited as hell about them.
It’s taken a year, but she’s redone the whole house to create a home that’s entirely ours. A drafting table sits near the window now because Pen has started to do more designs. I love watching her blossom and find her place in the world.
“Eh. I got antsy.” She busses a kiss over my cheek. “You can hang the art, and I’ll tell you if it’s crooked.”
I glance at the framed movie posters stacked against the wall and imagine that particular task. “I’d rather have painted.”
“But you’re better at holding up the frames with those freaky long arms so I can take a look.”
“Yeah, great.” I nip her earlobe before putting her down. “And you’ll have me holding them up ten different ways before making up your mind.”
“So dramatic.” She walks over to a paint can and puts the top on it. “How’s Jelly doing?”
I had been over at his house for a couple of hours hanging out. Jelly was still getting over the death of his coach but he’s back in playing form. He and Monica are now officially engaged.