Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
My body only gets hot because the water is steamy, and my fun zones only feel fun because they were cold earlier, and now they’re hot, and it makes them tingle. My skin is now free from clammy clothes, and it takes time to adjust. That’s why it feels sensitive all over.
I’ve just lathered up a bunch of really good-smelling shampoo into my hair when I hear the knock at the door. And then my name in that slightly rough voice. “Patience?”
I yelp and immediately get shampoo in my eyes, which makes me yelp again. I dive under the spray. “What?” I sound testy. It’s only because this shampoo burns like I just sprayed myself in the face with an entire angry science lab and kitchen combined.
“Can we talk for a second?”
Blinking eyes that are now tearing up, I rinse the rest of the suds out of my hair and shut off the water. The bathroom came fully stocked, so there are bottles of leave-in conditioner on the counter. I quickly wrap the world’s fluffiest red towel around myself and take a second smaller one for my hair.
Damn fluffy cloud-like towels. They just have to be so fluffy and perfect, don’t they?
“Just a minute.”
I towel my hair and rub the conditioner through it. I freeze when I stare at the pile of sopping clothes on the floor. And at my ruined pink boots. I didn’t bring anything clean in here. Nothing dry. The options are to squeeze back into wet jeans or go out in a towel.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I finally whisper back, going to the door. “We’ll just have to talk like this.”
“Do you want me to get you something?”
My mind immediately goes there, which makes all my lady bits tingle again. Total change in temperature. The towel that’s too soft. Those are easy reasons that totally make sense. Apollo. Touching. My underwear. My bras. My clothing.
“No, I’m good. Just…tell me whatever it is.”
“I convinced our dads to stay the night.”
I just about drop the towel right off of myself as my jaw drops too. “How the hell did you do that?”
I swear his voice has a hint of laughter in it. “I just asked them. I think the speech you gave outside was more than enough to guilt them into it.”
“That wasn’t guilt. It was the truth.”
“There’s just one problem.”
I think there’s more than one, but I go icy inside. “What’s that?”
“I only have three bedrooms.”
Yup, I go there. Me. Apollo. His bed. Tangled sheets. Heavy limbs. Salty muscle. My mouth. His mouth. Illicit things. These are not friendly thoughts. They’re not fake marriage thoughts. They’re not even sensical thoughts. My brain is clearly waterlogged, and it refuses to operate. It’s as mushy as my pink boots. I give my head a shake, and water goes flinging off my wet hair.
“How is that a problem? Give my dad the other spare room, your dad can take yours, and you can have the couch.”
He laughs. “Alright. That’s a good solution.”
What was he going to suggest? That we share a room? Share a bed and sleep in our clothes with a pillow wall between us? Or did his mind go to the place mine just went? I haven’t seen him so much as look at me that way once. I’ve had tingly thoughts, I’ve had tingly parts, I’ve noticed he’s a grown man in a grown man’s body, and my hormones have gone wonky, but his? He’s been as cool and collected and about as non-hormonal as it gets. There have been no sidelong glances, no lingering looks, and no awkwardness on his part. The only time I saw him flustered was when he realized he was naked, and that was only because I freaked out first.
He’s totally not into me.
“Well, now that you have that figured out, can you leave? I’d like to get dressed and figure out how we can keep our dads from tearing each other apart, getting into wild arguments, or starting secondary or third-ary feuds.”
“I’ll leave. Absolutely. That’s a good point. Spending the night is just the first step. They might wake up in the morning and still want to kill each other. I’ll make sure the pool is off-limits so there aren’t any more near-drowning incidents. Plus, I’ll be sure to cook a really good breakfast. It’s harder to be angry when you’re not hangry.”
That’s the kind of logic Apollo would have used as a kid. It nearly makes me smile.
I listen for a few minutes and hear nothing. It’s weird, that vacuum of silence. When Apollo clears his throat, I nearly jump out of my skin. Again.
“Oh my god, are you still there?” What was he waiting for? Me to come out in a towel and then shock me? No. He wouldn’t do that. I know he wouldn’t do that. I have to admit that I don’t really think there’s a creepy, dishonorable bone in Apollo’s body. He’s grown into the kind of man his mom would be proud of.