Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
The tiramisu is even more delicious than the dinner, and that’s saying something. My fluttery heart and my nerves probably don’t need the caffeine that’s soaked into the cake layers, but the dessert is worth it.
Zipper may not like coffee, but he apparently makes an exception for tiramisu, because he eats two helpings while the rest of us each have one.
Afterward, I offer to help clean up, but Hutch won’t hear of it.
“Do you still feel like going for a walk?” Christian asks.
“Sure.” If I wasn’t with these men, I’d feel like taking a nap after such a filling meal, but a walk in the fresh air might be just what I need right now.
“Will you be comfortable in those shoes?” Hutch asks, looking down at my feet.
“Oh.” He has a point. I chose tonight’s footwear for style, not for comfort. “I think so.”
“If your feet hurt when you’re out, we can carry you back,” he says.
Is he serious? I immediately envision myself in his arms, and let’s just say that the image doesn’t do anything to help regulate my heartbeat.
I’m almost surprised when Zipper comes along on the walk. He’s so hard to read.
It’s not far at all down to the beach, and I’m surprised I didn’t realize they lived so close to the ocean when I drove to their house; I guess I was preoccupied with all of my nervous thoughts.
“Want to take your shoes off and walk on the sand?” Hutch asks.
I nod, but when I start to bend to unfasten the straps, he stops me. “I got it,” he says, crouching in front of me.
If an entire body can blush, mine is doing it as his fingers work at my shoes. He slides a hand down the back of my calf before gripping my heel and sliding the shoe off. It all feels so intimate that it seems like he shouldn’t be doing this in public. Not that anyone’s around. Only the five of us. To keep my balance, I brace a hand on the solid muscle that is his shoulder as he repeats the motion for my other shoe.
I expect him to hand me my shoes, or maybe leave them in the sand for us to pick up when we return, but he carries them in one hand, while he keeps a steadying touch on my elbow with the other.
The men form a group around me, two of them on each side, and that’s how we walk along the beach, just out of reach of the tide. It’s a beautiful evening, and the steady sound of the waves coming into shore go a long way toward soothing my nerves. The sun is low on the horizon, and the colors it casts in the sky and on the water and sand are glorious.
There’s nothing to be nervous about. Conversation has been flowing, the men have been lovely, I don’t feel out of place with them at all.
But then Christian takes my hand, and my pulse skyrockets.
11
ROSE
The conversation continues; I asked them earlier about challenges in their work, and they tell me about coverup jobs, when someone comes in with a tattoo they regret, and the men turn the old design into something new. It’s fascinating, and some of the regrettable tattoos sound quite funny, but I can only half listen, because I’m constantly focused on the way Christian’s hand grips mine, gentle, yet firm. From time to time, he strokes his thumb over the back of my hand, and I wonder if he has any idea what kind of reaction that simple motion sets off throughout my body.
Then Hutch lightly trails the tips of his fingers down my back, eventually resting his hand just above my waist, and his touch radiates a glow, heating me up inside despite the cool evening air.
These are innocent, light touches, and my body is responding like it’s on fire, ready for action, desperate for more. My pussy’s getting wet from this simple contact alone.
I want so much more from them, even though I know I shouldn’t.
We’re from different generations, we have nothing in common except our taste in music, and we have no future together, but I still want them.
I typically wouldn’t do anything beyond making out on a first date, but I know if they initiate something more, I’ll be up for it. What would more even be, though, with four of them? Though maybe Mace and Zipper wouldn’t be involved. I don’t think they’ve been forced to spend time with me tonight, but they also don’t seem that engaged, so maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Maybe all this will be is hand holding, and I’m spinning out scenarios for no reason at all.
But I hope we do more than hold hands.
What we’re doing now, walking along, touching, feels tender and romantic, and I never expected romance tonight. The dinner was something special, too. So much more personal than going to a restaurant.