Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I stand up and nod as I exit her bedroom.
I may not be able to express my feelings to Millie, but my hero can. When she reads what I send her, she’ll be reading about my feelings for her.
“I’ll send a few chapters in the next few days,” I say, grinning down at her.
Her eyes light up and it makes me want to pump my fist in the air. She’s going to read the words I am too chicken shit to ever say to her. She may realize it and even if she doesn’t, at least the words are spoken.
One way or another.
“I can’t wait,” she says, opening the door.
“That makes two of us.”
She follows me down through the bookstore and unlocks the door to let me out. Before I walk through the door, I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Next time I’m around, save us both some time and keep your panties in the drawer,” I whisper. Confusion flashes across her face and I grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get between you and Oliver. Help is help, little bunny.” I step outside and nod. “Sweet dreams.”
“Damn, it’s been so busy today,” I say, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.
Griffin wipes his brow with his towel and nods. “Yeah, but it’s good business.”
I’m sure it is, but I’d rather be home writing more. I sent Millie a few chapters and I’m anxiously awaiting her reply.
We haven’t spoken since the other night and it’s killing me. I want to show up at her place and break her rules. I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside her tight pussy. I want to remind her what it feels like to have my mouth on her.
When she told me I was the first man to ever eat her out, I could’ve come. The thought that someone else could get a taste of her makes me feral. I want to be the only one who knows her taste.
“Kicked ass today, Griff,” Callum says, stepping into the kitchen and breaking my thoughts.
“Couldn’t have done it without Tripp’s help,” Griffin replies.
Callum looks at me and a grin almost hits his lips. It doesn’t, because Callum rarely smiles and if he does it’s because something great happened at the brewery.
“Hey, you good for the party tomorrow?” Anya asks, stepping into the kitchen and breaking my thoughts.
“Of course, I am, baby,” Griffin says from behind the line.
"I am the master," Brock declares with a playful smirk, holding a clear pitcher of amber beer aloft.
"Master of drinking?" Griffin teases, his laughter bubbling up as he leans casually against the kitchen line, a knowing grin on his face.
"Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about." Brock’s eyes gleam with mischief as he reaches for a row of empty glasses lined up on the counter. With a practiced hand, he pours a splash of the beer into each glass, the sound of the liquid filling the room. The rich, malty aroma wafts up, teasing our senses. "Try that."
We each grab a glass, curiosity piqued, just as Shepherd strolls in, his presence commanding as always.
“Wait, let me get Shep some,” Brock says, rushing to pour another glass. His excitement is palpable, his movements quick and eager.
Once we’re all holding a glass, we take a collective sip. The room falls into a brief, stunned silence as the taste hits us—smooth, complex, with a perfect balance of hops and sweetness that lingers on the tongue.
"Holy shit," Shepherd says, his eyes wide as he stares at Brock, disbelief written across his face.
“Yeah, I’m gonna second that statement,” Callum adds, taking another long sip, his usually stoic expression betraying a hint of amazement.
Brock stands tall, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, soaking in the praise. His eyes sparkle with triumph.
"Brock, wow, this is seriously amazing," Anya says, her voice laced with genuine admiration as she swirls the beer in her glass, savoring the aroma.
"Yeah man, it’s the best thing you’ve made in a long time," I chime in, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. The flavor is still dancing on my palate, leaving me craving more.
Brock raises his arms in a mock display of grandeur. "Well, am I the master or what?"
Laughter erupts around the kitchen, the camaraderie thick in the air—except for Callum, who simply rolls his eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Get this brewing and we’ll come up with a name,” Callum replies, always the practical one, but even he can’t hide his approval.
“If you can get enough for tomorrow night, we could serve it at the party as a special introduction,” Anya suggests, her eyes lighting up with the possibilities. The idea hangs in the air, full of promise.