Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Even so, his embrace makes me tingle. Kit glances up at us and then turns back to the fabric, totally unimpressed.
She has to know something’s up. I can’t decide if I’m happy or terrified that she doesn’t tease us.
All that worry about what would happen when she saw us together dissolves into smoke. The warmth in my chest grows, fueled by the moment.
I never had this growing up, and now I can see the appeal.
Family.
And it goes to my head.
This messy room with my art and Kit’s fascination and Holden’s steady reassurance feels way too close to home. Who would’ve thought a man I couldn’t stand before could ever offer this.
Even if it’s all in my head—and I’m sure it is—I’ll take what he’s sharing for a little while longer.
I’ll smile at Kit and talk through all the interpretations of this canvas. I’ll let big daddy touch me in subtle, innocent ways that feel downright dirty.
While the munchkin pushes her face close to the piece until she’s just a few inches away, I rest my head on his shoulder.
And I sink into the moment where the ominous chill from outside feels like it’s a thousand miles away.
That night, Holden worships me again, this quiet ritual that rips me apart a little more every time.
It’s tender enough to ramp up the heartache in every pulse as he kisses me softly.
Then not so softly at all.
There’s something heavy on his mind. Something he says with every thrust, every groan, every unspoken word.
When we finish, I roll over in his arms to face him.
Breathless and sated—for now—I reach up to trace his face with my fingers. Rugged, manly features I’ve come to know so well.
I don’t know when he etched himself into my head like a patina on bronze.
The sharp angle of his jaw.
The hard planes of his face.
The line of his nose and the soft, sweet cruelty of his lips.
How can it feel like you’ve known a man for eternity when you barely know him at all?
But I can read him now, even when he doesn’t like it.
And when I don’t know what he’s holding inside, like now, I wait with bated breath.
“Hey, old man,” I whisper.
“Hey yourself, brat.” His mouth curls a little under my fingers.
“What’s going on in that brain?”
“Thinking how much I like the way you taste.”
I sigh, slipping closer so our legs are twined.
His arm curls around me protectively, and I kiss his beard. He’s given me a rash on my inner thighs, another way he marks me, and I adore it.
“Just sex? Nothing else?” I say.
“No?” He jokes, kissing the tip of my nose. “Woman, it’s never ‘just sex’ with you.”
I flush.
“You know what I mean. Tell me what’s on your mind.” I meet his gaze, and he looks away, frowning.
Bad sign.
My stomach drops.
“Holden, tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that crap. It’s been on your face all evening since you got back, all through dinner. So talk to me. I’m right here.” I prop myself up on my elbows so he can’t look away.
Holden sits up and shifts back against the pillows, staring at his hands.
“My mind kept wandering to the damn egg. Don’t act surprised.”
“Again?” I frown. “Any new leads?”
I almost hate to ask, inviting unwanted trouble into paradise.
A shadow crosses his face.
“It’s not that, though of course I’m working on it. I can’t let those thieves go.” He sighs. “Just thinking what the hell happens after the egg. Have you thought about that, Clee? Your future?”
Oh. That’s not where I expected this to go.
“Um.” I look away, knowing he’s expecting some kind of mature, thoughtful answer I don’t have. “I mean… I haven’t given it a ton of thought. It’s been such an ordeal trying to find a place we can trust.”
“Yeah, but that’ll take a few more weeks. A couple months tops. What then? What will you do with your life once you’re home free?”
My frown deepens, trying to guess where he wants me to go with this. But he’s just watching me intently, his stern face tight without betraying emotions.
There’s lead in my belly as I search his handsome face.
“Well… I’ll use the money to support my art. Obviously. I’ll find a real studio at some point. Maybe travel around, see some places I’ve had on my list forever for inspiration. Baja California, I’ve always wanted to go there. Maybe figure something out to help my dad that won’t just be drinking money.” I wrinkle my nose. Helping him depends on whether he still has it in him to be a decent human being. “No guarantees there.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Some place to dry him out, you think?”
“If he’s willing. Rehab, therapy, whatever direction he’d like to go. But he has to want to get sober first. That’s the hard part.”
“Worth a try. You can’t give up on family, especially while he’s still got time.” His words are encouraging.