Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“I fucking love how thick you are,” his husky voice fills my mind. “Just for me. Only for me. Always for me…”
I bite my pillow as something hot and needy swells inside of me. The orgasm flows from my clit and spreads through my core, tickling and teasing my body, making my legs shake as I arch my back and imagine him sliding all the way inside of me, deep, deep, duh-duh-deep…
“Fuck.” I gasp, letting my hand fall, peeling my eyes open and staring at a shaft of moonlight on the ceiling.
I sit up, a sleepy, silly smile on my face, feeling drunk from what I’ve just done.
Outside, there’s a grunting noise?
Or what could be a grunting noise.
I snatch up my T-shirt, struggling to get my breathing under control. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s Lucian and somehow he’s out and he’s going to rush in here and finish what he started.
I tiptoe out of my bedroom, poke my head into Mira’s room.
She’s sleeping on her side, her thumb in her mouth, smiling around it. She looks far more peaceful than she has in a year. Rhett has changed her without a doubt, and even if I don’t understand how, I savor it, cherish it. It’s special. He’s special.
I shake my head, wondering if I can chalk this up to post-orgasm delirium. Great, now I’m diagnosing myself like some Victorian quack doctor.
I knock on Rhett’s door. “Rhett?” I whisper. “Are you awake? Rhett?”
I knock again, causing the door to slide open, the hinges whining softly. The guest bed is empty. A pit opens in my gut. He’s not here. It was a crazy scheme to begin with, this fake-boyfriend thing, but if he was going to leave, he could’ve at least told me.
Then, behind me comes a creak, another door.
I spin, panic tearing through me.
A man with a gun stands in the doorway, eyes gleaming.
I open my mouth to shout, then Rhett steps into the soft lamplight.
“Hey, hey, it’s me,” he says quickly. “I was keeping watch.”
“Were you outside?” I ask.
He nods. “Doing a circuit of the property. Should’ve bought the cameras and sensors today. It’s hard to sleep without them.”
He strides across the room, wearing a plaid shirt and cargo pants, with thick, chunky boots on his feet. He hasn’t shaved since I met him, and now he’s got a short beard, not just stubble, shot with silver through it.
I wonder what he’d say if I told him, your beard is like moonlight. Is that romantic or just plain weird?
“Are you okay?” he says, touching my hand and squeezing it softly. “You’re on the verge of hyperventilating.”
That’s because my body is still humming from what I just did… and from the fear.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“It’s a warm night,” he says. “Care to join your boyfriend on the porch and watch the world go by?”
“Sure, Rhett. That sounds nice.”
He leads me to the door, holding his gun in the other hand, then places his gun down and takes a coat from the rack and drapes it over my shoulders. As he tightens it around me, making sure I’m warm, I can’t lie…
I feel like his girlfriend.
CHAPTER 11
RHETT
Ipull up a chair beside her. Hesitate for a moment. It should probably be for more than a moment.
But then I slip my arm over her shoulder. As gentle as a man like me can be. Slow and steady. She shivers.
“Is this too much?” I say softly, getting ready to snatch my arm away.
But then she makes a humming noise of contentment, and I know it wasn’t a bad shiver. “No,” she says. “I like it, Rhett. It feels nice. Safe. New. And a bunch of other things too.”
We sit in silence for a while. We stare into the night. Bright stars shine from a clear sky, and the moon is a crescent. Like a smile.
“Are you practicing?” she asks. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling.
I make small circles on her shoulders. “Isn’t this what boyfriends do?”
“I’m not sure,” she murmurs. “I’ve never had much practice.”
“Me neither,” I say. “But if we’re going to make this convincing and scare off whoever that was, we better get our act together.”
“Maybe you should start by telling me what you liked most about your girlfriends, then,” she says.
I laugh softly. “Girlfriends? Do you take me for some kind of Casanova or something?”
“Maybe I did until you said Casanova. I didn’t know people still used that term.”
“I’m ancient, Sunshine.”
She looks up at me, lips pursed, eyes vulnerable and sleepy. “Did you just call me Sunshine?”
“I think I did. I promise I didn’t plan it. You can puke if you want.”
“Explain first. Then I’ll decide if I want to puke.”
“It’s what you said about finding the light. Your old photography motto. Guess it stuck with me. And it’s what you do, Elle. You find the sunshine where others can’t.”