Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
We’re cuddling now. We’re hanging out in Cuddle Town after the best sex I’ve ever had while joking about Lincoln’s gay lover. What a time to be alive after nearly freezing to death.
I let myself relax against him, enjoying the feel of his fingers pushing the hair off my sweat-dampened forehead.
“Thank you for that.”
“The orgasm or the trivia?” I quip before a jaw-popping yawn takes over my face. “Sorry.”
His hold on me tightens. “Do you need anything to drink? Are you comfortable? You do remember there’s a bigger bed upstairs.”
“If I’m thirsty I can take care of it. And I don’t think either of us wants to sleep in that room. It’s already bad enough that we have to walk through it to get to the shower.” I moan. “Oh, a shower sounds so good right now. But it might have to wait until I take a tiny nap.”
“You don’t like letting other people take care of you, do you, Win?”
I pat his chest, my fingers lingering to play with the hair there. I’m surprised at how simultaneously soothing and arousing that is. He’s a tactile adventure and I love everything about it. But he’s not wrong about my issues. Still, I think today has been more than most people with even a shred of pride could take without a little grumbling.
“You dressed me like a doll. Carried me around the cabin and cooked me dinner before giving me a penis massage. Consider your hosting obligations fulfilled.”
Huffing with laughter, he kisses my temple. “I’ve got your number now. I can’t believe I thought you were a pampered performer when we met.”
“I’m not even in a band. Not really.”
“I don’t get that either. Your voice is incredible.”
I like his praise more than I should. Part of me leans into it, looking for more strokes. “I know. But I have a servant’s heart and a special way of irritating people that’s insured I haven’t had my own band since the traumatic freshman-year breakup of A Mighty Win.”
“A Mighty Who?”
I give his chest a playful flick. “They had the same problem with that name. We had one gig before getting into a fight over it, since no one got that it was a play on a Eugene Levy/Catherine O’Hara movie instead of me being a diva.” I snicker. “Not that I wasn’t a total diva back then, because I was, and I used way too much guyliner, but I wasn’t lying about the name.” I nuzzle against him sleepily. “Unfortunately, since I never learned to play an instrument, that was the extent of my musical career. Unless you’re counting karaoke and those Rock Band video games, because I am a legend at both. And before you ask, I have no regrets.”
“So instead of the spotlight, you spend your days either taking care of your friends and students or thinking about taking care of your friends and students. Is that right? I doubt you stop long enough to give anyone a chance to return the favor.”
I lift my head to stare at him suspiciously. “You got all that from The Great Macaron Interrogation?”
“You’re not as difficult to read as you think you are.”
“I don’t know if that’s a complement or a kill shot. I’m incredibly difficult and very complicated, thank you very much. You have no idea. And you should be glad. That’s how difficult I am.”
“I’m not seeing it.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “What I do see is that you’re a hard worker, a natural caretaker and a great friend.”
“You’re the caretaker,” I murmur sleepily against his chest, loving the smell of him. “You cook meals meant for families, not tables for one. You take care of the M&M sisters and go above and beyond for random strangers who get lost through no fault of their own. I see right through you. You’re the king of caretakers, wrapped up in overly attractive, dragon-assassin packaging.”
“You keep mentioning my package. Even when you’re falling asleep.”
It’s one of the last things I hear him say, and it makes me smile. Who can blame me? It’s one hell of a package.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MICHAEL
I study Win as he sleeps in my arms.
Dark lashes fan over pale cheekbones, casting shadows over skin that would be flawless if not for the scratches he had when I found him and the patches of beard burn that I can’t force myself to feel sorry about.
He starts to snore softly, and I’m in a bad way, because I like the sound of it and what it means. Trust. The first new bud of it, at least, if he can fall this deeply asleep beside me.
As I hold him closer, a tenderness I doubt he’d appreciate starts to take root. “All night” is on pause for the moment. Which is fine, since it’s barely evening yet and this blizzard is showing no signs of losing steam. After the day he’s had, he probably needs it.