Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
A charcoal gray Audi waited near the plane. It was sleek and gorgeous, and obviously Shawn’s since Victoria loaded our bags into the trunk. He opened the passenger door for me. I sat down and tried not to notice the interior. Of course the car was beautiful, and it was made more so when he slipped behind the steering wheel. Powerful and in command. In his element.
I pressed my hands against my thighs because I wanted to touch him, but he had one hand on the gearshift and the other on the wheel as he drove away from the tarmac. How the hell was I going to share a room with him?
“How far is it?”
“It should take about thirty minutes.” When his gaze darted to the rearview mirror, I glanced at the side one and my concern grew. A dark vehicle followed close behind. Every turn we made was echoed by them.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly, “that’s one of ours.”
Ours. Not mine. When had that happened?
Munich, the part I saw, was narrow streets lined with white buildings and red roofs, with the occasional church stretching high up toward the stars. Historic and charming.
He pulled into an alley and set the brake just as the service door on one of the buildings swung open and a man stepped out.
“It’s safer if we come in this way,” Shawn explained. “Klaus will bring up our bags.”
He got out, handed his key fob to the man, and came around to open my door. He offered his hand to help me out, which I took, and let him lead me into the hotel and straight onto an elevator. Where, like last time we’d been on one, he didn’t release his hold.
Only this time I didn’t fight him. I held on to him fiercely.
The hotel room was large and extravagant, decorated in the same shade of gold as his beer. There was a living area with a couch and oversized chair to the right, and the large, inviting bed to the left.
One bed—which I gazed at with nervous eyes.
“I can sleep on the couch,” he said.
His offer was genuine, and I swallowed thickly. The couch was little more than a love seat, and he was enormous. It seemed unlikely he’d get any sleep, but if he did, he’d probably wish he hadn’t. I was sure it wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone.
The truth was, I didn’t want him on the couch. I was mildly concerned that his hand, the one that was still holding mine, was part of what was holding me together.
“As long as you stay on your side of the bed,” my breathing went unsteady, “it’s fine.”
He nodded and looked relieved. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to order something?”
“No, thank you.”
“Something to drink?”
He didn’t wait for my answer. His fingers uncurled from mine slowly, as if reluctant to release me, and he strode to the bar, bent, and opened the mini fridge. I’d expected him to go for wine, but when he straightened, there was an elegant glass bottle of water in his hand.
He twisted off the cap and set his questioning gaze on me.
“Yes,” I said.
He’d just finished pouring our glasses when there was a short knock on the door, and it swung open. The man who’d let us in through the back entrance appeared, delivered our bags, and set Shawn’s car key on the side table. “Brauchen Sie noch etwas, Herr Dunn?”
“Nien,” Shawn said. “Danke.”
The man nodded and exited.
I took the glass when Shawn handed it to me and gulped the water down. Not just because I was thirsty, but because I felt out of sorts and didn’t know what else to do. My gaze drifted to the king-sized bed, and he didn’t miss the way I eyed it with longing.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said. “We can sort through everything tomorrow.”
My eyes were burning and heavy as I changed in the bathroom, slipping into an old t-shirt and pair of shorts I wouldn’t have worn around anyone else if I’d had my choice. But I didn’t. When I came out, I tossed my clothes into a heap on my open suitcase, turned my focus to the bed, and my heart skipped.
While I’d been gone, he’d gotten undressed and under the covers. He sat back against the tufted headboard, shirtless and lit by only a single sconce on the wall over his nightstand.
On any other day I would have said the bed looked inviting, but tonight it was downright irresistible, and I refused to consider how much the man there had to do with its appeal. He watched me wordlessly as I slipped under the covers, pulling them up to my chin.
“This probably wasn’t what you had in mind,” I tried to make it sound teasing, “when you said you wanted to sleep with me.”