Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Roman gets out before me, but I’ve only just gotten my door open by the time he gets around to my side since I’m still staring in awe at our view for the night. The two of us walk up the four steps to the front porch, and I take the key from him since his hands are full. As soon as I push inside, I fight the urge to laugh. It looks like Cupid puked on every single surface. Hearts are everywhere, from the curtains to the rug on the floor. Even the hot tub sitting almost in the middle of the room is red and shaped like a heart.
“I guess I understand now why they call this the honeymoon cabin,” Roman mutters, going to the kitchen and placing the bag on the counter.
I go to the TV, grab the remote stuck to the side, and turn it on. The moment I do, the sounds of people having sex fills the room. It’s so loud I’m sure it could be heard from miles away. Panicked, I try to change the channel, but all that comes on is a different porno, this one raunchier than the last. Seriously.
“Let me see!” Roman shouts, and I toss him the remote like it’s on fire.
He points it toward the TV, and the sound cuts off, but my heart still pounds frantically.
“Oh my God.” I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV in horror. “What was that?”
“Porn.”
“Thanks.” I laugh and fall to my back, my eyes widening when I see the mirrors on the ceiling.
“They really went all out with this place.” I meet Roman’s gaze in the mirror and start to giggle uncontrollably. “Come on.” He chuckles, stepping toward the bed, grabbing my hand, and pulling me up. “Let’s figure out how to cook dinner. I’m starving.”
“I think I saw a grill on the front porch. We should use it.”
“How do you do that?” he asks, and I give him a double take.
“Are you serious?”
“I live in Manhattan.” His face says “duh” without having to verbalize anything.
Of course. I don’t know much about living in Manhattan, but I imagine outdoor space is probably limited, so a barbecue is a luxury most people don’t have at their disposal. I walk out the front door, and he follows me over to the grill. When I open the lid, I find it’s actually propane, so I turn it on to let it heat.
“It’s beautiful out here.” I step to the edge of the porch and rest my weight against the railing.
“It is.” He leans against the railing next to me. “But it’s too quiet.”
“I can turn on the TV if you want.” I grin, and I watch him laugh, the sound of it wrapping around my insides, making me warm once again. “You don’t like the quiet?” I ask when his laughter has calmed.
“It’s difficult to get used to,” he replies softly, taking his eyes off the water to look at me. “But it’s becoming more bearable by the day.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but it has nothing to do with the quiet and everything to do with the pain that has consumed me for so long, seeming a little easier to deal with lately.
11
ELORA
41.4017° N, 124.0417° W
You know how in books, the female character always wakes feeling confused when they realize they’ve woken with the hero of the story wrapped around them? Like they don’t know how, in the night, the two of them found each other in bed, and there is a moment of panic from what it might mean?
That’s not me.
I don’t wake up surprised that I’m curled up against Roman’s chest, wondering how I got in this position. I know exactly how I ended up right where I am.
Last night, after making dinner on the grill, me cooking and him watching in amazement like he never saw anyone grill food in his life, the two of us got ready for bed. And after we both brushed our teeth and got into our pajamas—me in a T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, and him in just shorts—there was no discussion about one of us sleeping on the couch or any awkwardness as we got into bed. And when the lights were out, I didn’t hesitate to curl into him, and he didn’t falter in wrapping his arm around me.
The only surprise is that during the night after he and I fell asleep, I didn’t move an inch, and neither did he. His arm is still wrapped around me, and my head is still pillowed on his chest, with my arm stretched across his abs.
“Are you awake?” The deep rumble of his sleep-filled voice causes a wave of awareness to slide across my scalp and down my spine.
I know I’m attracted to him; I would have to be blind not to be. But since the moment I thought he was going to kiss me in the bathroom, nothing from him indicates he’s interested in me in that way. And I’m okay with that. I like this. It is easy and uncomplicated.