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)
Reaching for the soap, I start to scrub myself as an excuse to look away from him for a moment. It smells like him. Like the woods, and something spicy I can’t identify.
“It’s your turn to reveal something before this silence gets awkward, Michael.” I need to regroup after revealing so much of myself to him. It feels like my skin is on inside out.
“Okay,” he says easily. “I’m bisexual. I didn’t find that out until I was in college, but I wasn’t that conflicted about it since, even with a larger dating pool to choose from, I didn’t get out much. Oh, and I’ve never tried anything kinky, with ropes or handcuffs, but I’ve been thinking I’d be willing to try that with you if you’re interested. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I just want to fuck you.”
The soap shoots out of my hands, disappearing beneath the water as he chuckles. His eyes are sparkling with humor and smoldering desire.
“I love how red you get when you blush,” he says as he feels around for the missing bar.
“I don’t usually do it this often. You keep surprising me.”
“I’ll try to rein it in.” He hands me the soap, his fingers lingering on mine. “Can I ask you a question about your friends?”
“Whoa, Michael.” I hold up my free hand dramatically. “That’s a pretty big step for us. You only saved me from an afterlife as a bear popsicle, fed me and gave me orgasms. Now we’re sitting in a bubble bath and you mention tying me up right before asking about my friends? We might be crossing the Rubicon.”
His lips quirk. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“That’s what I said.”
“They’re a big part of your life.”
“Is that a question?”
He’s still holding my hand. “An observation. I’m wondering how your lovers fit into the equation.”
My lips twist in genuine humor. “You know, I’ve managed to go my entire life without using the word lover in a serious sentence before.”
“Glad to amuse you.” But he’s waiting for my answer.
“Between you, me and these bubbles, I haven’t called anyone my boyfriend since the fourth grade. Our love lasted for the three hours that he thought I was ‘da-bomb-dot-com.’ Which was something he said about absolutely everything, so take that as you will. What about you?”
“I’ve dated—what was that you said before? The normal amount? No one serious.”
I was talking about sex, not dating, but okay. “No boyfriend or girlfriend? Not even in school?”
He shakes his head. “I mostly kept to myself.”
“I feel like I should call bullshit, but you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” It boggles my mind. “You’re gorgeous, smart, wealthy, well-traveled and you bake. How did you not leave a trail of broken hearts everywhere you went? Were you surrounded at all times by blind asexual bodyguards? Did you go from the ranch to a deserted island until you showed up at Finn’s? Explain it to me.”
His smile disappears. “I’m not comfortable around most people, Win. I never have been. So, I avoid socializing whenever possible. When it isn’t, I’m very careful to make my lack of interest clear. My family’s reputation makes that difficult at times, but I have no interest in following in their footsteps.”
My heart melts a little at his admission, giving me the confidence to say, “You seem pretty comfortable with me.”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed.” He lets my hand go to squeeze my knee instead. “What do you call what we’re doing here, Win? What would you call what we are?”
Complicated? Wonderful?
“Scary but promising,” I tell him honestly, loving the feel of his large hands sliding up my thighs. “I mean, it’s not amnesia, fake dating or oddly erotic close-talking. But I’m still a fan.”
“There you go, bringing up that show again.”
“You brought the DVDS. And it’s kind of a tradition for us now.” Couples have traditions, don’t they? Cute little things they say and do that only they understand.
Are you a couple now?
I’m testing the waters. So far, they’re feeling nice and warm. I should be worried, because nothing in life is this easy. Another shoe or a penny will drop. It always does.
Or maybe it won’t. It’s too soon to tell.
He hauls me into his lap and I gasp in surprise. “You’ve had your bath. Is there any other topic you’d like to cover, anything you need, before I take you back to bed? Because I don’t think I’ll be letting you out of it again for a while.”
Anything I need. That’s what he’s been giving me. And all I’ve been doing since I got here is taking.
There’s no way he can know how unusual that is. If I were sick or injured, my friends would take care of me and I’d let them. Them. No one else. What used to be a necessity—because we weren’t able to count on anyone but each other—became a well-ingrained habit.