Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
So she just sat there and waited.
Finally, he crossed the tiled room and grabbed a small bench she hadn’t noticed before then. Dmitri dropped it next to the tub and took a seat. “You need at least thirty minutes in the hot water.”
Do not argue with the irrational man. “Okay.”
He eyed her like he knew she was just humoring him. “Do you read much fantasy?”
She tilted her head, trying to see the cover of the book in his hands. “I prefer the sexy stuff.”
Something in him relaxed as he chuckled. “I can see that. This is one of my favorites, and an excellent way to pass the time.”
This was his rodeo—at least for the next thirty minutes until she got out of this bath—so she made a show of settling in on her side so she could face him. “I never pegged you for a fiction reader. The classics, sure, but not contemporary books.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “What kind of reader did you peg me for?”
“I don’t know.” She swirled her hand through the water. “I just figured you read The Art of War over and over again until you can quote it at the drop of a hat.”
“‘To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.’”
Her jaw dropped. “I knew it!”
Amusement flickered to life in his eyes, chasing away some of the worry. “It’s an excellent resource—one you should tap as well.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with the lessons. Read me this fantasy novel.” She made a show of being the rapt pupil—which would have worked out a lot better if she wasn’t naked in the tub without even a shield of bubbles and he wasn’t sitting there in only a pair of lounge pants. “Is there a farm boy who needs to go on a journey to realize he’s the savior of the world like every single Lord of the Rings rip-off ever?”
He gave her a mock severe look. “If you’ll be quiet, you’ll find out.” He waited for her to obey, and then began to read.
Keira was instantly enraptured by his voice. Most people didn’t have the cadence to read books aloud—they went too fast or too slow or didn’t breathe in the right places. It stood to figure that Dmitri wasn’t most people. His accent only added to the experience as he immersed her in the story. She watched his face as he spoke, loving the fact that she could do it without being caught because he was focused on the words on the page.
It didn’t take long to discover why this was a favorite. The hero of the story was a bard who was smarter and wilier than everyone around him, even if those same wits got him into trouble as often as they got him out of it. No doubt Dmitri saw bits of himself in the man.
As the story played out, her bathwater cooled, but she was loath to break the moment. It was well past the thirty-minute limit when Dmitri frowned and shook his head as if shaking off a daze. “You must be starving.”
She was, but this moment felt more important than a few hunger pangs. “I was enjoying myself.”
“How does your back feel?”
“It hurts like a bitch, but I’m not the least bit sorry.” She grinned. “Though I might need some help out of the tub.”
He sighed. “There will be no reasoning with you, will there?”
“Nope.” She didn’t want his guilt—she just wanted him. The sex was beyond amazing, but the quiet moments that kept cropping up were just as important to Keira. She didn’t want him holding back for any of it. She wanted all of him. “Now take me to bed and feed me.”
Dmitri shook his head, but the guilt remained at bay. He pulled the stopper on the tub and helped her stand. Her back had tightened up from staying in one position too long, but she fought to keep her expression neutral as she stepped out of the tub and allowed him to dry her. He cursed. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”
“I don’t know about that—you threw a hissy fit earlier.”
“A hissy fit.”
She glared at him, though there was no heat behind it. “Yes, Dima, a hissy fit. What else do you call that freak-out? I was lying there, trying to soak up the glory of postorgasmic bliss, and you were going into hysterics.”
His brows dropped. “Concern for you is hardly hysterics.”
“I am not breakable. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be on both of us.” She strode past him and into the bedroom. The food they’d bought was set up on an honest-to-God tray designed for breakfast in bed. She shook her head, because there was no other appropriate response. Keira didn’t bother with clothes as she climbed onto the mattress and picked up her fork. “This looks freaking amazing.”