Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I’m friendly with ghosts who don’t live in my house,” she counters, looking around the room. Then her eyes go to the chandelier, and I pray to everything when I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction. “What is this?” she gasps and points up to it when she gets in the middle of the room and stands right under the fixture I had put in. With the way the sun is coming into the room right now, you can see spots of blue and even pink.
“If you don’t like it, we can switch it out,” I state, trying not to get my feelings hurt.
“No.” She folds her arms over her chest. “It’s perfect.” I breathe a sigh of relief when she says the words. “I didn’t know what type of lighting I wanted for this room, but this is perfect. Even better than I could have imagined.” She gives me a side smile, and I think it was all worth it. She looks at the floor. “I can’t believe the floors look so good,” she gushes over the original flooring that we sanded and then varnished.
“I sent you pictures.” I wait for her to give me an excuse for why she didn’t get back to me, but she doesn’t even acknowledge that she got them. She just nods as she looks over to the side where the bathroom is. Her feet now move toward the bathroom. “So she doesn’t even try to deny she ignored every single message I sent her.”
She looks over her shoulder, probably shocked I’m calling her out on it. “I wasn’t ignoring you, there just was nothing to say.”
“Wow.” I walk toward her as she stops before going into the bathroom. “Is that what you’re going with?”
She turns to me. “I’m not going with anything.” She pretends she has no idea, but I can see she’s fucking with me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tilts her head to the side, and it’s taking everything I have inside me not to bury my hands in her hair, fisting it and keeping her head exactly in that position when I kiss the ever-loving shit out of her. “Now, can I see my bathroom, or are we going to stand here and talk about you being butthurt that I didn’t fawn all over your messages and stroke your ego?”
She turns and leaves me with my mouth hanging open. My fingers itch to grab her hand and yank her back to me. She steps into the bathroom, and I hear her gasp out. “You did not send me these pictures!” she shouts, sticking her head back out. “And you did that on purpose.”
“Did I?” I point at myself. “I don’t know what you mean. I mean, if you wanted to get pictures of the bathroom, all you had to do was ask me, and I would have sent them to you.” I did in fact not send her one picture of the bathroom. I sent the before pictures from the demolition but didn’t send her another one. I sent her a picture of the marble I was putting in and the faucets I chose. Other than that, she hasn’t seen anything.
She glares now and I can’t help but think, even with the glare, she is hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “Well played, Mr. Walker,” she retorts, turning and walking back into the bathroom and my dick goes to half-mast. “Well fucking played.”
I put my hands on my hips, giving myself a little bit more time to get my dick under control and not go into her bathroom with my cock straining to get out of my pants.
“This is gorgeous!” she shrieks. I finally walk over to the bathroom and see her standing in the middle of the room, right in front of the tub that took six of us to carry up the stairs. They cursed me and all the saints they could think of, including a couple who weren’t even saints but became saints to them. I worked my ass off to make this bathroom come to life like it was in my head. She looks over at me, and her hands are covering the smile and shock.
“This tub,” she says of the tub sitting on a piece of white marble with light-gray veins, right in front of the bay windows that are stained glass with gold trim. The handles to open the windows are brass, which match the faucets to the tub. “It’s like it’s in its own room.” She walks over to the side of the wall, touching the molding I put up as I made the wall arch, the illusion making the ceiling above the bathtub is higher than the rest of the room. But the ceiling is all the same height, it is just the arch that makes it seem that way. “I never thought that wood would go in a bathroom,” she says of the brown mahogany wood floor I had installed between the shower and the bathtub.