Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 117249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Today was different. Achilles has changed. For a few hours, his armor slipped, and he revealed a part of himself that was rare and uncovered.
During the afternoon, Major joined us at the pool. Achilles speared him with a look that would shatter glass, but Major laughed in his face, undeterred, and dove in. I didn’t ask, but I assumed the death glare had something to do with the show this morning at the yoga studio.
I slipped out of the pool and discreetly snapped pictures of the two tossing the football in the pool, then sent them to Jewls. Her comments kept me entertained until my phone was snatched from my hand and I was tossed back into the pool and forced to play a game of volleyball without the net. I spent most of the time dodging the ball and being teased mercilessly. It was humiliating, but the smile on Achilles’ face made it worth it.
I got a semi-tour of the house and discovered there are six bedrooms and seven baths. Achilles showed me to my own room to shower and change, leaving me alone for the first time since the morning. I called Jewls, gave her a brief rundown of the day, had a semi-freak-out, and then rushed to shower before Achilles wondered why I was taking so long.
Luckily, before leaving my apartment, I had the foresight to pack a few essentials. It wasn’t much, but I wasn’t a total train wreck.
Achilles refused my offer to help with dinner and instead poured me a glass of wine while he did most of the prep. Ford and Talon came home from their shift and neither acted surprised to see me. Achilles shot them the same glacial stare as Major, and like Major, they laughed in his face and ignored it.
We ate, we drank, and we caught up on each other’s lives like old friends. The only time Achilles left my side was to grill the steaks, and even then, he pulled my barstool closer to him. I went with the flow, enjoying the carefree atmosphere.
There was a hesitation in the air when I asked about their obligation to the Marines now that they were in the Reserves. Achilles’ jaw got tight, and he sent a look to the others, who didn’t speak up. He sort of brushed me off, saying it was basic protocol, and quickly changed the subject. I let it go because the last thing I wanted was to ruin the relaxed atmosphere of the evening.
Mentally, I make a note to not make that mistake again in my next dream. Because now I’m sure that’s exactly what is happening. I dreamed the whole thing.
Strong arms circle my middle and haul me close. My hair is swept off my face and soft skin runs along my forehead. I clutch my sheet tighter, throw my knee over my pillow, and readjust my body. There’s a grunt, followed by a gentle nudge at my thigh. My leg brushes along something hard before settling. Pounding rushes through my ears and I burrow deeper. The pounding accelerates with my wiggling body.
My eyes fly open and take a few seconds to adjust to the low light coming from the hallway, but when they do, I’m staring at a black serpentine form. The same shape tattooed on Achilles’ ribcage. My body goes rock solid when I realize where I am and exactly what I’m doing.
My hand isn’t gripping my sheet, it’s clutching the waistband of his shorts. My leg isn’t settled between my extra pillows. It’s nestled between his thighs. And the pounding in my ears isn’t excitement from my dream, it’s the beat of his heart against my cheek.
My gaze darts across his broad chest and I recognize the fabric of the sofa. I rack my brain, trying to figure out how we ended up this way. The fog lifts and it comes back to me slowly.
I talked the guys into watching one of my favorite cop shows, which they begrudgingly agreed, then tore it apart. Achilles stretched out on the extended lounger next to me, throwing in his own comments at the stupidity of the people on the TV. He looked tired, so I requested an Uber. The wait time was longer than usual. I must have fallen asleep before it got here. But that doesn’t explain how I wound up attached to his side.
Ever so gently, I dislodge my fingers from his waistband and reach for my phone lying next to his shoulder. His hand flies up, captures my wrist, and flattens my palm on his chest.
His eyes remain closed, and I take a second to appreciate the view. The dark stubble covering his cheeks and chin, his hair spiked in every direction, the thick eyelashes fanning out. Even unconscious, he’s sinfully sexy.