Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“This feels more than good,” he corrects.
“Fine, the sex is fantastic. Okay? Does that make you happy?”
He shrugs. “Honestly, yeah, it does.”
“But it’s only sex.”
He stares at me for a few long seconds before turning away. “Let’s get lunch.”
“I’m sorry, did you not just hear me?”
“I just spent the last half hour tasting you, fucking you, making you come twice, then spilling my seed down your pretty throat. I’m hungry.”
My jaw works, frustrated, annoyed.
But my stomach growls, and shit, I’m hungry too.
“Fine,” I snap, storming past him. “But I choose the place.”
“Whatever you want, my lovely wife,” he says, and the smugness in his tone drives me absolutely insane.
Chapter 25
Keely
I get back to Nolan’s house later that evening after working at the donut shop.
All afternoon after lunch, I tried not to think about him. I bugged Roger to let me help out, which he reluctantly did, although only because I’m his boss’s wife. I puttered around with small tasks, throwing myself into screwing, hammering, and basically keeping busy sweeping up while the guys did the real heavy lifting. All the while, thoughts of Nolan kept intruding, and I did my best to avoid the metal workbench where he fucked me, but it was like every time I started doing something, I kept noticing it out of the corner of my eye.
It’s extremely distracting.
Which is why I’m not looking forward to seeing him tonight, but I can’t exactly go back to my apartment.
It’s totally empty.
Every bit of furniture, all my clothes, everything. There’s not so much as a towel to lay on the floor.
I’d know, because I made Roger take me there before driving me back to Nolan’s townhouse.
I take a deep breath as I head inside. The door unlocks the second I touch it—some sort of biometric thing built into the handle—and the smell of cooking overwhelms me. I stand on the threshold, my stomach growling. Garlic, sautéing vegetables, something spicy. I drift back to the kitchen, blinking rapidly at the heavenly aroma.
Only to find Nolan standing at the stove.
“What the heck are you doing?” I ask, blurting it out before I can stop myself.
He looks back over his shoulder. “Preparing dinner,” he says, a slight smile on his lips. “Hungry?”
“Starving. But you’re cooking?”
He shrugs as I drift over. He’s making some sort of pasta dish I can’t identify yet, but it involves multiple pans and absolutely smells incredible.
“I learned over the years,” he admits. “I own a few restaurants and picked up a few dishes.”
“But why?” I stare at him, trying to comprehend but struggling. Why would a guy like Nolan bother to learn how to cook?
He brandishes a spoon at me. “Men can cook. Some of the best chefs are men.”
“It’s not a gender thing, you asshole. It’s a rich thing.”
He laughs once at that, stirring the pasta water. “Rich has nothing to do with it. Should I never bother to work if I’m rich? Should I waste all my time sailing a yacht around?”
“Probably,” I mutter.
“No, that’s not me. I’m a curious man. I like to learn things.” He glances at me. “And I like to please the people I care about.”
“If this is your way of pleasing me, go ahead,” I say, sitting down at the island. “Cook away. Although I wish you’d do it shirtless.”
“I feel so objectified.”
“Like it?”
“A little bit, yes. If you want me to cook naked, you’ll have to strip too.”
“Pass.” I lean my chin on my hand. “Seriously, what’s the deal?”
He pauses and turns to face me. His arms cross over his chest, and his face is impassive. “I’ll admit this isn’t entirely altruistic.”
“Figured. Are you trying to wine and dine me? Hoping to get in my pants tonight?”
“Yes… and no.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“I will be getting in your panties tonight, but I’m not doing this to make you amenable to getting fucked.” He blows out a slow breath. “I’m cooking because my mother is coming over to meet you.”
I lean back like he slapped me in the face.
His mother?
I knew the guy had a mother—I remember her from the vow renewal thing, a tall red-haired lady, seemed really nice—but I never dreamed I’d actually meet her.
“You could’ve warned me,” I say, on the edge of panic. “Does she know? About us?”
“She does.”
“How’d you spin that one?”
“I told her that I married you. No spin necessary.”
“Did you include the time limit?”
He touches the spoon to his lips. “You know, I might’ve forgotten that part.”
I shove back from the island. “Okay, I’m out. Good luck tonight.”
“Keely.”
“No, no, no, I am absolutely not going to lie to your mother.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to avoid the five-month elephant in the room?”
“It won’t come up.” He returns to cooking.
I want to scream. “It won’t come up? Are you insane?”