Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Hope didn’t have a TV. We sat at her small kitchen table and ate in silence. When we were done, Hope said, “I know it’s early, but I’m beat. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, me too.” As I said the words I realized how true they were. Exhaustion pulled at me, my bones aching with it. Now that my stomach was full and the rest of the world was outside Hope’s door, I craved the solitude of sleep for just a few hours.
I wasn’t ready for tomorrow. Paperwork with Harvey. Walking through the front door of Heartstone Manor. And the worst part—going back to Atlanta to say goodbye. I didn’t want to think of any of it. Hope disappeared into her bedroom, emerging with bedding and a pillow in her arms. “I’ll make up the couch for you—”
“I can do it.” I took the bundle from her arms and dumped it on the couch. She turned to go. I shot out my hand to close around Hope’s wrist. She jumped in surprise. When she turned back, her cheeks were pink.
I looked down at her face, so familiar and yet completely new. Those eyes that saw so much, the honeyed strands of her hair that had fallen from her bun to frame her face.
“Griffen—” She tugged at her wrist. I didn’t let go.
“You heard what Harvey said. It has to be real.”
Her eyes flared wide in alarm. I resisted the urge to grin. Did she think I was going to toss her over my shoulder like a conquering warrior and have my way with her?
“We have time,” I said, “but we got married today. You’re my wife. And I never got to kiss the bride.”
Her lips parted in surprise and a bolt of arousal shot straight to my cock. I didn’t give either of us a chance to think. I tugged her closer until she all but stumbled into me and raised my palm to cup her cheek, bringing her mouth to mine.
I don’t know what I expected from the kiss. A dry press of our lips. For her to pull away. To protest.
What I got was something else. Her mouth half-open, her lips soft. Giving. I went back for more, my tongue slipping out, tasting. Testing. I was ready for her to stiffen up.
Instead, she melted, sinking into me, her tongue reaching to stroke mine, her breasts pressing to my chest. And the sounds she made in her throat—half-moan and half-growl, all of it dragging me under.
I fell into the kiss. Fell into her. Hope was made to be here, held in my arms, her mouth under mine. I could taste her hunger, the passion she kept locked away. She pressed closer, her head tilting deeper, her lips against mine taking more of me.
One hand found its way under her loose sweater and I stroked up her spine, absorbing all that warm, soft skin. I itched to cup her breast, to claim more of her.
Too soon.
Hope kissed like it was a discovery, like every press of her mouth to mine was something new. Unexplored. That was the only thing that kept me from pushing it further. Her passion was more than a match for mine. We could have sated ourselves on that wide velvet couch—
Don’t fuck it up on the first day, I reminded myself.
Her hands had closed over my arms as if she were holding on for dear life, her mouth moving on mine with hunger, with need, but unpracticed and uncertain.
Too soon.
I eased back, the cold air that rushed between us a punishment. I wanted more.
I would get what I wanted.
Eventually. Not tonight.
“Sleep tight, Hope.” I pressed one last kiss to her forehead before I let her go.
Hope stared up at me with dazed eyes, her lips swollen. With a tiny, indrawn breath, she turned and bolted for her room, closing the door behind her.
I spread the blanket and sheets on the couch, stripped down to my boxers and lay down in the dark. The couch was exactly as comfortable as it looked. The day crowded in on me. The funeral, the will. The utter disaster that was my life.
I’d never wanted to see this town again, and now I was stuck here for at least five years.
I’d never planned to get married after what happened with my first fiancée. In one day, I’d skipped the fiancée part and gotten myself a wife. I’d married Hope. Little Hope Daniels, who wasn’t so little anymore.
I should have felt resentful. Resistant. About the rest—the will, the trusts, my siblings—I absolutely did. I couldn’t let myself think about my father, still yanking my chain even after death. Just a flash of that scene in Harvey’s conference room and I wanted to rage at Prentice. He was dead, and I knew better than to waste my time.