Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I nod.
"Words," he insists.
"I understand."
"Now let's get in before we run out of hot water."
He pulls his hand back before leaning in and pressing the sweetest kiss to my forehead.
I want to wrap my arms around him, cling to him forever, and beg him to be mine, but instead I turn around and test the water temperature with my hand before stepping inside.
He follows shortly after, taking the wash rag I hand him before reaching for the body wash.
"Plumeria and vanilla," I say when he lifts the rag to his nose after applying the soap. "You're gonna smell like a girl."
He doesn't react the way I think he will. He smiles instead of hesitating to press the cloth to his skin.
"I'll smell like you," he counters.
Thankful that I can blame the water's high temperature for the blush on my cheeks, I also load my wash rag with soap.
We continue to glance at each other as we get cleaned up. As he promised, even as he washes his lower parts, the wash rag in his hand wrapping around his erection, he doesn't say a word or look at me seductively that would apply pressure to engage sexually.
It doesn't stop my body from responding, but I don't give that part of me a voice.
He washes my back when I ask, and the movements are economical and efficient before turning around and handing his wash rag over his shoulder, his own silent request.
I'll ask about his battle scars later because his body is covered in old wounds, but this doesn't feel like the time or place to wake old demons.
He climbs out first, giving me time to wash and condition my hair, something I didn't have the energy for last night after the chaos in the parking garage.
He's standing outside the shower, boxer briefs hanging low on his hips, and gratefully, he doesn't mention the way I let my eyes rake over his bare chest.
He hands me a towel before leaving the bathroom, and feeling like there's no rush, I take my time drying off and blow-drying my hair.
When I step back into the bedroom, a little embarrassed to still be wrapped in a towel from my rush to get to the bathroom earlier, I see the old bed linens in a neat pile on the far side of the room and the bed made to military precision.
"You made the bed?" I ask.
"I had one of the other women come in and strip it while you were in the shower."
My jaw hangs open as I blink at him, my hand instinctively coming up to clench the towel. I don't know how I feel about other people in my space.
"Really?"
"No. I made it myself," he says, and for a brief second, I'm stunned.
"Did you just make a joke?"
His grin is wide as he watches me.
I smile back at him before grabbing pajamas from the dresser and pulling them on.
"I'm exhausted," I confess.
"I'm pretty tired myself," he says, but he doesn't make a move toward the bed.
"Did you want to leave?" I ask, afraid of his answer.
He shakes his head.
"You want to stay."
I get a quick nod.
"But it all depends on what you want."
"You can voice your own needs and wants without it feeling like you're applying pressure to me," I assure him.
"I want to stay in here with you," he says without hesitation.
"For just tonight?"
He's still for a second before I get another head shake.
"For how long?" I ask.
"As long as you'll have me."
That feels like the most important promise anyone has ever made to me.
"I like that," I confess. "Will you be here in the morning?"
I drop my eyes, a part of me still fearful that this could be a temporary thing.
"Depends on how late you sleep. I have a meeting in the morning."
"Fair," I say. "If you wake before the sun comes up, let me sleep."
"I promise."
"But I'd want to know if you're leaving because you want to escape me."
"Never," he says, the vow holding more power than I thought it could. "Get in."
He grabs the edge of the blanket and sheets, crawling in first and not hesitating to pull me to his chest when I climb inside.
He reaches over, turning off the lamp before settling in.
A rush of breath leaves his lips, but it sounds more like a sigh of contentment rather than anything holding negative energy.
"I want all of my nights to be just like this," he whispers, his hand rubbing soft circles on my back.
"For how long?" I ask, feeling more confident than ever before that I'm going to like his answer.
"As long as you'll have me."
I press my lips to his bare chest, smiling against his skin, and drift off to sleep with nothing but happiness and good thoughts swirling through my head.
I don't mention forever, but I know that's exactly what I plan on.