Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I have a haircut in an hour,” Murphy called from the other room. “Are we doing this or not?”
My heart pounded, but before I let any sort of reason steal my bravery (my recklessness), I opened the bathroom door. Murphy was by my bed, checking the glass watering bulb to the plant on the nightstand. When our gazes locked, I shrugged off my nightshirt, leaving me in just my black underwear as I took three steps and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He pulled back a fraction when I tried to kiss him. I narrowed my eyes, and he grinned.
“Hi,” he whispered.
It was simple, yet emotionally jarring. I almost chickened out. Almost.
I don’t know what I expected. After all, Murphy seemed like a gentleman who cared about my marital status, and he had flawless taste in music and a knack for keeping houseplants alive. Adding those things together led me to expect a hot romp in the sheets with a little cuddle time afterward.
Nope.
Murphy ditched his shirt then backed me into the desk opposite the bed, peeled my underwear down my legs, and released himself from his jeans, all the while fervently kissing me.
“Oh god …” I threw back my head and gasped, gripping his arm with one hand and the edge of the desk with my other as he drove into me.
It was all very à la carte. No foreplay, and I presumed it wouldn’t end with desktop cuddling. Just sex.
It was exactly what I needed, as if Murphy knew the circumstances that brought me to the Lake of the Isles for two weeks. We screwed like someone injected something into our veins that made us lose our minds, and everything that had haunted me just disappeared for a few minutes.
Our gazes locked, and he grinned which made me mirror his response. It was that “holy shit, we’re really doing this” grin. Then he kissed me again, and we hummed at the same time like, “holy shit, this feels so good.”
He ducked his head and drew my nipple into his mouth. When he tugged it with his teeth, I climaxed. He fused his mouth to mine, swallowing my cry while he pumped into me harder, then orgasmed with a low, sexy groan vibrating his chest. When it was over, we clung to each other, breathless and utterly satisfied beyond all expectations. At least, that’s what I planned on writing in his five-star review.
For the record, I had never gone home with a stranger from a bar for a one-night stand. It was all feigned confidence on my part. But more than that, I had never experienced such an uncontrollable pull toward another human.
Murphy fisted the back of my hair and kissed me again, his tongue sweeping the inside of my mouth. Then he kissed his way down my neck while simultaneously tucking himself back into his briefs and zipping his jeans. I opened my eyes when he froze and peered over my shoulder.
He reached behind me and ran his finger along the chipped drywall where the desk had rammed against it.
“I’m not paying for that,” I said.
He couldn’t hide his grin as I hopped off the desk and grabbed my underwear and nightshirt before sauntering to the bathroom. “Looks like you’ll get to your haircut on time. Five stars for efficiency, Murphy Paddon.”
As soon as I closed the door, I covered my mouth and cried my fucking eyes out.
Chapter Twelve
Alice
There are two kinds of people:
grumpy people and those who nap.
“Enough with the flowers,” Blair grumbles, traipsing into the kitchen before breakfast. She tightens her robe sash. “I’m here for the summer. I’m a goddamn artist. There’s no reason for you to arrange flowers every morning. There’s no reason for you to do most of the things you do, but certainly not this.” She slides the vase away from me.
“Okay then.” I give her a tight smile.
“I stripped our bed, so why don’t you throw the sheets in the washer if you’re looking for something useful to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Blair. Please stop the ma’am shit.”
I bite my tongue and take a few steps toward her bedroom.
“Alice?” Blair sighs. “I’m … ugh! I’m so sorry. I’m PMSing, miserably on the verge of starting my period. And literally everything is irritating me. Planning this wedding is stressful. I just want to move to New York. And I’m sure you don’t care about my problems, but I’m really sorry for snapping at you. I was out of line.”
Is she apologizing to me? I’d rather she not. It’s easier for me to deal with my feelings for Murphy if I don’t relate to his fiancée.
“It’s fine. Planning a wedding isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Oh, have you been married?”
“No,” I murmur, continuing to her bedroom, stopping at the doorway because Murphy is on the phone, pacing the room.