Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He smiles. “Good to know.”
“I don’t want it to be awkward if we cross paths.” I blow out a breath. “When Matthew and Faith get married for example. He’ll probably invite you to the wedding.”
“He better.” He grins. “Faith is a perfect match for him, by the way.”
I have to agree since my brother’s fiancée is everything he’s ever wanted in a woman. The depth of their love is immeasurable.
“If we sleep together on this ship, what’s going to happen when we see each other at the wedding?”
His fingertips trail over the back of my hand. “We’re adults, Delia. We’ll say hello, maybe share a dance. I wouldn’t be opposed to recreating what I hope will happen later today.”
“We’ll have sex again?” My eyes widen. “That feels messy.”
“What’s wrong with a little mess now and again?” He leans closer. “You’re overthinking this. I’m not about to push you to do anything, but there’s something to be said for enjoying the moment.”
As if on cue, our mojitos arrive along with a smile on the face of the woman delivering them. “Can I just say that you two make a beautiful couple?”
“We’re not that,” I correct her with a shake of my head.
Donovan laughs as he reaches to take both drinks from her tray. “We’re new friends exploring what’s to come.”
She giggles at that. “No pun intended, right?”
I bury my face in my hands as I try not to blush.
“Enjoy your drinks,” she says just as I lift my head to meet Donovan’s searing gaze. “I’ll keep them coming.”
Another round of giggles fall from her lips as she walks away leaving me alone with the man who is becoming harder to resist by the second.
CHAPTER TEN
Donovan
I’m on my second strawberry mojito and I’m already feeling the impact of the ridiculous amount of rum that was added to it.
I’m not full on drunk, but I’m experiencing a buzz that I don’t mind one bit.
I’ve spent at least the last ninety minutes staring at Delia. I’ve tried my best not to be overt about it, but the woman is so fucking breathtaking that tearing my gaze from her feels damn near impossible.
She talked non-stop about a summer she spent in California when she was in her twenties. She headed there with a friend for a ten day stay only to prolong it when she applied for a job as a house and pet sitter at a beach cottage on a dare. She landed the job and as her friend made the trek back to Manhattan alone, Delia spent the next three weeks enjoying the sun, surf and the company of a Dalmatian puppy.
That set off a conversation about my job and why I chose to be a vet.
I always answer that question the same way I did today. I love animals. That started when I was a kid and I rescued an injured bird that was stranded on the sidewalk. My fascination only grew as I aged, so when it came time to start planning my life around where I wanted to study veterinary medicine, I made sure I took the right electives. I devoted as much time as I could to getting good grades and the day I graduated with my degree in hand, I knew I’d chosen the only path I could.
“How many drinks do you think I’ve had?” Delia asks me with a straight face.
I shrug. “Four?”
“For sure?”
I can’t help but laugh. “So, you’ve had four for sure?”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “Are you asking me because I was asking you?”
Slightly intoxicated Delia Hawthorne is a fucking treat. “Since I sat down, you’ve finished two.”
I hold up two fingers to clearly convey my point.
“So those two plus the two I had before you got here is four,” she deduces. “Or wait. Are you including the one I was finishing when you sat down as one of your two, or one of my two, plus two more.”
My mouth curves into a broad smile. “I think you’ve had enough for today.”
“I’m not drunk,” she announces. “Do you know how I know I’m not drunk?”
I lean closer to her, wishing I could kiss her right now. “How?”
She taps the tip of her nose with her index finger. “I can do this.”
I follow her lead and do the same with my finger on my nose. “So, I’m not drunk either?”
“Nope. You’re sober.”
I’m not quite that. I wouldn’t trust myself behind the wheel of a car at the moment, but I’m certain I’d pass any sobriety test.
“Roman told me if I couldn’t touch my nose I was drunk.” She shakes her head. “He would make me touch my nose when I’d get home after a party. That started when I was sixteen.”
“Roman is a hard-ass.”
Her head falls back in laughter, revealing the smooth column of her neck. She’s so sexy that it’s almost painful to be this close to her and not be touching her. I’ve struggled to keep my gaze off the way the fabric of her bikini top barely covers her ample tits. The bottoms look like they’re painted on. They’re snug enough that I anticipate that when I do get her naked she’ll be waxed smooth.