Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Eager to quiz Mark about it, I slip out of the robe and into my clothes, silently impressed with the combination left out for me to wear. Being summer here, I was unsure of what to pack.
I don’t exactly have the figure to walk around in next to nothing. I burn easily, and I’ve always just made a habit of covering up and staying inside whenever possible. Not exactly Australian party time, not by a long shot.
Stepping out into the wide hallway, I gasp at the sight of candles lighting up corners and giving a warm glow that matches the charge in the air. They flicker a little. I can feel there are doors and windows open. That delicious, hypnotic sea breeze fills the whole house—cooler but not quite as comfy as the A/C.
I know my way to the kitchen, so I start there. Empty. Turning to double back, I shriek before I feel Mark’s huge hands gripping me by the elbows as I crash straight into him, my chest pressing hard against him and his fingertips brushing my nipples, alerting me to the fact I have no bra on and being touched by a man. A man like Mark? It’s enough to make me stupid with arousal in about one second flat.
“Good Evening,” Mark croons, ignoring my shock and helping me relax with one of his perfect smiles.
Keeping his grip on me, he steps back, eying me up and down while I notice his outfit change.
He stares, but with appreciation, as if he’s congratulating himself on a job well done by picking out my clothes—something he’s a natural at if his choice of clothes is anything to go by. He’s dressed smart casual, I guess you’d call it. Although some might say it’s just jeans and a polo shirt, that little collar adds a touch of class to his regular T-shirt.
“You look amazing, Melissa! How’d you sleep? Is everything in your room all right?” he asks, firing one question after the other while my mind and body are still stuck on the feeling he’s given me by flicking the “on” switch mother nature put on my chest.
“You didn’t have to…” I say, but it trails into a near moan when his hands linger, and I feel myself moving toward him, whether or not I want to.
The feeling of his body so close to mine, and then when his thick fingers brush my now crazy stiff nipples again… I’m already done. I could float away on a cloud.
Sensing my predicament, Mark eases his grip and looks concerned, apologizing to me. “If I crossed a line by unpacking some of your things, I’m sorry, Melissa,” he says with clear, honest eyes. “I just couldn’t mope around the house all day, so I’ve been doing a few things. One thing led to another. I was doing laundry, and… well… I made sure you had fresh clothes ready.”
It sounds more like a confession than an apology. If anyone else had done it, I’d be furious, but like everything to do with Mark, I can’t help but feel something else. I don’t know. I feel he did it because he actually cares, not because he’d benefit from going through my things. Look around! It’s not as if the guy is interested in my off-the-rack budget wardrobe.
“It’s sweet of you,” I hear myself purr, sounding a little over the top, but it has the desired effect on Mark, who beams from ear to ear once he knows he’s made me happy.
“Is it some Australian thing?” I ask, teasing him a little on purpose, but he creases his brow.
“It’s a me thing,” he replies earnestly, almost sounding like he’d be hurt if I went any deeper with my comments.
“Well, thank you, Mark,” I tell him honestly, recovering my manners. “I really didn’t mean to sleep all day,” I exclaim.
“You’ll be up all night,” Mark counters, flashing me a brief but unmistakable look that matches the feeling his fingers brushing my chest did and sending a wave of warmth between my legs that takes me by surprise.
I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s as if the man has an invisible remote control that can switch parts of me on to the highest setting by looking at me or creasing his mouth a certain way, and I think he knows it. His sly smile after he says it gives him away, and not to be outdone, I challenge him right back.
“So, what’s a girl to do if she’s up all night with you?” I ask, blushing as soon as I hear myself, hoping Mark doesn’t think I sound too forward.
“I mean… I didn’t mean it like that,” I add quickly, only this time, he does look wounded but recovers just as fast. His eyes twinkle with an element of surprise as he hooks a hand freely around my waist and guides me through a doorway into a living room of sorts. A huge pair of French doors open onto a terrace, revealing an entirely laid table and more candles. Flowers too.