Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
When I lather it on, the silky suds soften my skin as the scent permeates the air. I thought setting traps for Warner to fall into was the best part of being here, but it’s the soap for sure.
Instead of rinsing off, I leave the body wash on while I wash my hair, then condition it. Squirting a silver dollar-sized amount of his extravagant face wash like I’m really sticking it to him by wasting it, I scrub my hands over my face. “Ack!” My eyes burn as the soap sneaks into the inner corners. I shove my head under the water, hoping to alleviate the pain when I hear, “Listen, Delaney—”
“Oh my God.” I scramble to cover myself, but my eyes still burn, so I can’t see where he is or where he’s looking. I only manage to flail my hands in front of certain body parts as I screech, “What are you doing in here?”
“I think we should work through our problems.”
“Can we do that when I’m dressed and not naked, covered in . . . water?” I turn my back to him, giving him quite the show of my ass. “Also, can you not stare at me? Thanks.”
“You think highly of yourself. I wasn’t even looking, much less staring at you.”
“Oh.” I duck my head under the water again to clear the remaining soap and then peek through the steamy glass at him. He’s standing there with the smuggest grin I ever did see. “You’re an asshole.”
He walks to the door, holding the edge and looking back. “It’s nothing I’ve not seen before, dear wife.”
If looks could kill, he’d already be on the floor. But he’s won this round, whether I like it or not. “Shut the door on your way out.”
Just when I think he’s gone, his laughter warns me otherwise. “By the way, nice ass, sweetheart.”
“Get out!”
The door closes before the words leave my mouth. He’s either lucky or smart enough to know when to get out of the line of fire. I won’t give him too much credit, but either way, he’s gone. I try to reclaim the tranquility I felt in the shower spa, but everything has changed, and that intolerable man has destroyed any peace I’d gained.
I shut off the water and pull the fluffy towel—because, of course, he has the fluffiest towels known to humankind—and dry off. Chances are good he’ll be gone from this room when I open the door. I peek out first, and when I see the coast is clear, I cross the room to the closet where I dumped my suitcase. Bending down, I unscramble the code and pop the lid open. With no idea what’s in store for me today, I debate what I should wear. It’s Saturday, so he won’t be working, and since I don’t have a job yet, we’ll be spending time together. Maybe I can get him to go to the store to buy real food for the fridge.
The sound of my stomach growling on cue impresses me, and I had absolutely no control over it. I stand and dip into the bedroom again. “Warner?”
“What?” His voice travels the hallway to reach the end of it.
“I don’t know what to wear,” I yell so he can hear me. “What are we doing today?”
The pause is long enough for me to wonder if he didn’t actually hear me. “What do you want to do? And don’t say induct me into the Mile High Club.”
He appears in the doorway to the bedroom. “That doesn’t leave much.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I duck back into the closet.
“I’m also still thinking about your ass.”
I still my hands on my head, hating myself for liking that so much. “What are you thinking?” Hatred isn’t strong enough to cover the disappointment I have in myself for even daring to play this game with him. He’s been an absolute jerk this morning, but last night, he was almost dreamy, and he’s a really great kisser. I would have gone so much further if we’d kept going. I don’t even remember why we stopped now. Though I know it was for the best.
What would today be like if we’d had sex last night?
Much messier than it is already. I’m glad we didn’t.
“I like the shape of your body,” he replies, sounding unapologetic. His voice is closer as if he’s standing right outside the closet. He doesn’t peer in or barge in like we’re married, giving me the space and privacy I need to get dressed.
I press my hands to my heating cheeks and try my hardest not to love that he likes my body. Getting Warner's approval is the last thing I need, but it sure does make me feel amazing. “Thank you.” I keep my volume down, no longer needing to yell. But really, it’s because emotion could overcome me if I let the compliment affect me on a deeper level.