Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “Then I guess I’ll order room service.”
My stomach rolls at the idea of food thanks to the migraine that’s slowly getting worse by the minute. I’m sure realizing that I’m stuck in this marriage isn’t helping my pain. I start toward the bathroom then turn back to him, feeling almost shy. “About last night...was I good?”
The smile he gives me isn’t mean or teasing. Instead, it’s gentle and filled with affection I don’t understand. “Last night was the best night of my life.”
In the bathroom, I fill a glass of water and swallow some pain relievers. Then I check my phone, glad to see the picture of Molly and Milo with Ronnie. I know they’re both in safe hands this week. I take a quick shower then wrap myself in the hotel’s plush robe.
When I step out of the bathroom, Cord is at the kitchenette dining table. He’s dressed again, wearing the same outfit from yesterday before the wedding. Blue flannel layered over a white t-shirt with snug blue jeans and well-worn cowboy boots. His Stetson must be around here somewhere.
He’s sitting at the table with a huge spread of food. He gestures to it. “I didn’t know your preference, so I went with some of everything.”
I can barely stomach the smell of food even though I’m normally a breakfast eater. My voice is quiet, pain evident in it. “My dad texted. The original limo driver flaked.”
Cord must notice because he drops his voice. “Do you need me to drive?”
“No, my dad didn’t want to send someone else. He’s insisting on seeing us off.” I frown. It’s not a task he would normally do, but I don’t tell Cord this. No sense in both of us being nervous.
He butters a stack of pancakes then reaches for a pitcher of syrup. “Are you a toast, bagel, or pancakes girl? I couldn’t decide which one you’d want. I did sample the cheesy eggs. Those are tasty.”
I blow out my breath. “You don’t understand. I’m going to the airport to take our honeymoon. I can’t have my dad see me leave alone for my flight. I need you to come along.”
He sets the syrup on the table. “I reckon I could go on our honeymoon. That might be nice, seeing as couples normally do that together.”
I glare at him. “We’re not really married.”
His gaze roams up and down my body, heating me in ways I didn’t know a man could. “If we’re not really married, then why do we need a divorce?”
Chapter 5
Mira
I swallow for the second time in thirty seconds. My nausea has ratcheted to a solid ten now that I’m waiting in the airport for our flight. “Is my dad still here?”
“Don’t worry about him,” Cord says, taking the hard, plastic seat next to me. He disappeared for a few minutes, and for one horrifying second, I wondered if he was abandoning me right here before our honeymoon. But he returned with a plastic bag. He passes me an electrolyte drink and a pack of sea salt chips. “You’re hungover. You need sodium and fluids.”
I twist the cap off the drink and take a tiny, hesitant sip to see how my stomach responds. Thankfully, it doesn’t lurch and I take two more small ones. “Thanks for this. But I’ll pass on the sodium. It makes women swell, that’s what Stuart always said.”
He leans close, invading my space which isn’t hard to do in these tiny seats. “Number one, your ex was an idiot. Number two, your health matters the most. I want my wife to be healthy and strong. I want her to feel good, so don’t let that fuckwit have any more space inside your head. You got it?”
My heart skips a beat at the passion in his voice, and I start to nod my head in agreement. But it hurts too much to try, so I abandon the effort. Instead, I reach for the bag of chips and bite gingerly into one.
When it’s clear my stomach is trying to settle, I go for another. I eat my snack slowly, keeping my gaze on my new husband. I love watching him, the way the sunlight catches his tanned skin and his tattoos. The way his thighs move beneath his blue jeans as he bounces a leg up and down.
What happened last night? Did he pin my hands above my head and ravage me? Did he take me up against the wall, bouncing me up and down until we were both screaming? Did he call me his good girl as he came deep inside my body?
The last thought has me squeezing my thighs together. He said last night was the best night of his life. He can’t possibly know how much that meant to me, how I’ve spent so long feeling anything but sexy.