Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Tempting . . .
Our backs pressed to the headboard, our eyes ahead in the candlelit room. It’s hard to make out anything personal in the unfamiliar room, but there’s not much other than furniture. It’s not only a clean home, it’s barely lived in. There’s no life built in. The halls are barren of laughter. Forget about anyone else. Warner barely exists in the space other than his physical presence, which is currently taking up a lot more space as he spreads his legs a little wider. At this rate, I’ll only have a foot of space to exist.
I could always straddle him. He talks a big game, but can he walk it? “So . . .” I say, letting it hang in the air to see what he wants to add.
“I’ve been thinking . . .” He drops his own lingering start, but I’m much more curious how he’d finish it. He doesn’t.
Taking the glass, I ask, “About?” I sip and then sip again. The liquor burns, but the smoky, sweet aftertaste is quite nice.
“I’ve never had sex with a broken arm before.”
“Have you had sex with a concussion? Is that even safe? I can’t imagine the doctor would advise such an activity.”
“Do doctors ever advise having sex?”
“Sure.” I glance over at him. “I had one tell me it will help alleviate migraines.” I take a sip, remembering what happened next. That calls for another drink before handing it back. “And then he volunteered.”
“What the fuck?” He angles toward me, and says, “Delaney, please tell me he’s no longer your doctor.”
“He’s no longer my doctor.” I bounce my shoulders up and down once. “I discovered I was getting migraines from the incense my friend was always burning in her room when we would study there. So we stopped burning incense.”
“Juniper?”
A burst of laughter leaves my chest. “Yes. Juniper. My friend. The blonde you supposedly remember so well.” Good Lord, have mercy on me. This guy is exasperating. “Speaking of, it’s interesting you remember her . . .” Especially since she doesn’t exist. “But not me. Your wife.”
His gaze travels my legs that are tucked under the covers before he reaches over to slide his knuckles against my thigh. Even the blanket and sheet between us doesn’t stop my heart from quickening. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to trigger the memories to return. Don’t you think?”
“I think you’re coming on to me.”
Shifting to set the glass back down, he’s slower because of his broken arm, but the shared moment between us is flaming-red hot when he returns. Damn those incredible abs, those eyes that peer into my soul, and that husky seducing voice of his. The reprieve wasn’t long enough for me to recover before he smirks just enough for his confidence to shine through. “Would it be so wrong for a husband to be attracted to his wife?”
I take a breath, hoping it’s steady and doesn’t give away the filthy thoughts I’m having of him. Laying it on as sweet as honey, I bat my lashes. “Even after all that’s happened?”
“That’s the beauty of amnesia, baby. I’m a blank slate. A fresh start. There’s nothing to hold us back from creating new memories together.” He leans closer, his hand sliding behind my lower back. In one swift move, I’m pulled onto his lap so fast that I don’t have time to squeal. I wouldn’t have protested anyway.
The covers slide off my thighs, leaving only the thinnest of satin covering my lower half. My loose top with a lacy hemmed bottom brushes against my belly, exposing the space the fabric doesn’t cover. His pants are still on, the flap of the open button rubbing against my ass. While I notice the little things like that, there’s a much larger problem growing between us.
My swallow is too loud, and my cheeks feel hot from being so obviously nervous. “Warner,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. I touch his cheek. The rough scruff of growth from the past few days is little spikes against my hand. The scene is set. The outcome is in our hands. The warmth and slightest scent of his skin wrap around me like a wool scarf. His large hand slides from my hip to my waist, making my body respond to him. There’s no hiding my hardening nipples or the way my hips press harder against him, the pressure becoming mandatory for my survival.
It’s all too much. His size compared to mine and the way the devil looks at me like I’m a prize worth fighting for do me in. I lean in, brushing my lips against the fullness of his, but catch myself before I give in and pull back again.
His breath has deepened like mine, his eyelids heavier, and his lips are parted, ready to kiss me if I’d let him. I don’t because I’d lose all control if I did, sliding off his lap, I keep moving until I’m standing on the other side of the bed. I glance through the windows at the city that’s lit like stars and then to this palatial room fit for a king and queen. But I’m not his queen. I’m not even part of his court. I’m just a peasant compared to this life.