Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
For a perfect few seconds, we are lost, and when reality returns, she’s draped across me, and I press my hand to her head. “You okay, Sofia?”
There’s a shift in her energy, tension radiating down her spine beneath my palm, but when she presses herself upright, hands on my shoulders, confusion and vulnerability wash over her face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why do those words contradict your expression and body language?”
“It’s just confusing, you know? Everything between us is here and gone.”
“Not this time, baby,” I promise. “Not if I have my way. I’m not letting you go without a fight. Watch and see.”
“What if I don’t make you have to fight at all?”
I reach up and stroke her hair from her eyes. “I’d like that very much, Sofia. Let’s order that pizza and do this again.”
Her lips curve. “If you can do this again tonight, you’re a champion.”
“Pizza first.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Spanking later.”
She blushes a pretty pink, and I decide right then it’s the mix of sweet and spicy in her that keeps me coming back for more.
Or maybe, it’s just everything about her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ethan
We’re still naked when my cellphone rings at the same time as the doorbell chimes.
“That’s going to be Paul,” I say, laying Sofia on the couch cushion and offering her the box of tissues. “I’ll tell him to leave my things at the door. You order the pizza.” I sit up and reach for my pants and retrieve my phone just in time to answer. By the time I’ve given Paul instructions, Sofia has wrapped a blanket around her and darted away.
When I’ve disconnected and pulled on my pants and T-shirt, I glance around the living room, taking in the cozy feel of the space that contrasts the rather sterile décor of my own. The couches are blue. The rug is thick and cream-colored with a navy design. The narrow floor-to-ceiling windows are covered in heavy blinds, with a television mounted on the wall between them and a table beneath. On top of that table are two candlesticks with a Chanel lookbook display between them. There’s actually a mannequin with a clothing design in the corner and a wall framed with drafts of her work that would consume me with interest if not for what’s on the opposite wall. My eyes catch and linger on a photo of Sofia with her father and a beautiful woman I am certain is her mother. They looked alike, both blonde with blue eyes and heart-shaped faces and high cheekbones. I’ve found myself lost in Sofia’s stare too many times in a wickedly short time. I wonder if that’s how hard her father fell for her mother. I also wonder if the similarities between mother and daughter are bittersweet to her father, seeing the woman he loves and lost in the daughter he loves and protects. He’s not going to react well to me, and I don’t blame him. He loves her. He wants to protect her. I’m an outsider who’ll most likely feel as if I’m taking her away from him. I’m going to need to work hard to assure him that won’t happen.
It hits me that Sofia hasn’t returned, and I grimace, concerned that she’s running away again in her own house. Damn it, why does this keep happening? I push to my feet and run a rough hand through my hair when I hear the front door open. What the hell? Is she leaving? I shove my feet into my shoes and round the couch to meet Sofia in the hallway with my suitcase and dressed in leggings and a tank top with sneakers. “I heard the knock when I was walking this way. Sometimes the doorbell doesn’t work.”
I step closer and cover her hand where it rests on the suitcase handle. “I thought you were in the bedroom, plotting how to get me out of here.”
“I changed and ordered the pizza. Only, I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered way too much pizza. I don’t want you to leave, Ethan. I was nervous about you seeing my place, but that’s done. And I like my place.”
“I like it, too. It feels like you, and that’s a good thing. Where should I put this?” I ask, indicating my suitcase.
She points behind her. “That’s the bedroom.”
I grab the case and carry it to her room, which is small but comfortable, the king-sized bed covered with a dark blue velvet comforter that matches a chair in the corner. I’m not at all surprised to find a sewing machine and another mannequin with a half-created dress hanging from the structure.
“I have a hard time leaving my work at work,” Sofia explains, stepping to my side. “I do a lot of my design work here.”
“Then you won’t get mad at me working?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.