Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Releasing a deep breath, I convince myself it doesn’t matter this weekend. I have all day tomorrow with Ozzy, and I’m going to enjoy it, probably with his dick buried inside me.
“Is this the house you lived in with Brynn?” I ask, returning to the kitchen. Mentioning Brynn’s name buys me some extra recovery time. It’s the one subject that doesn’t lead to sex.
Ozzy keeps his focus on the dishes, slowly scrubbing a pan. “Yes. When Tia and Amos decided to retire and move here to help with Lola, I finished the basement so we could sleep down there, and they could have the main level.”
I dry the clean pan he hands to me. “Is this your first time without Lola overnight since Brynn died?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you miss her?”
Ozzy doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “Lola or Brynn?”
My stomach sinks. That was a stupid question. I’m sure he misses both of them. “Lola.” I clear my throat. “Forget I asked. Of course you miss Brynn. And I’m sure you miss Lola. I’m just making small talk and doing a terrible job.”
“Maren, you can ask me anything.”
I feel his gaze on me when he hands me another dish, but I don’t look at him.
“I saw several cardboard flats of seedlings in the garage. Are you planting a garden?” I ask.
“Yes, I was supposed to do that for Tia today. She nearly canceled their trip just to get her seedlings in the garden. But their car didn’t start, so my day veered off course. And on top of that, Lola desperately hopes I’ll paint her room and hang her colored LED strip lighting.”
“Then let’s do that. We can paint tonight. We’ll hang the LED lights tomorrow morning and plant the garden.” I set the last clean dish aside because I don’t know where anything goes.
Ozzy drains the water with a familiar smirk. “I don’t want to do any of that other stuff.”
I throw the towel at him, and he catches it. “I know what you want to do, but I think we should take longer breaks from that and get these things done so Lola will want to spend more nights with her grandma. And Tia will trust you to do what she asks and, therefore, feel good about leaving you home alone again.”
He prowls toward me, tossing the towel onto the counter.
I can’t. Not yet. He’s literally going to break my vagina. Or I’m going to die of orgasms. My voice is already a little hoarse from so much screaming.
“Thank you for coming,” he whispers, brushing his lips along my cheek to my ear while caging me in with his hands on the counter behind me.
I chuckle. “I don’t know if you’re referencing my staying here with you or the other coming. But either way, it’s my pleasure.”
“So, painting?” He teases my earlobe with his teeth.
“Yes. Let’s paint.”
“Then we get naked again.” He palms my ass, pulling me closer so I can feel his erection. “My face between your legs . . . ,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue along my neck. “Sucking your pussy and your fingers while you touch yourself. God, I love that.”
He’s a machine.
I blush while angling my neck to let him kiss his way down to my shoulder. I never imagined this side of Ozzy Laster. He was my tampon-fetching knight. The endearing father riding his bike with his sweet daughter. Not a dirty-talking sex fiend.
I like—I love—every side of him.
“Yes,” I say, a little breathy. “It will be your reward.”
And mine.
He stands straight, lips corkscrewed for a few seconds, politely ignoring my hard nipples. “Then let’s get to it.”
“Tell me about your family,” Ozzy says while we cut in the purple paint in Lola’s bedroom a little before nine. It’s going to be a long night. “I know you lost your brother. Do you have other siblings?”
“I have no other siblings. My parents live in Nebraska. They’re farmers. That’s how I got started in flying and crop-dusting. Brandon couldn’t wait to head west, so after he graduated, he moved to Missoula to pursue his career as a firefighter. I graduated two years after him. I worked on the farm for several years, then packed my bag to follow Brandon.”
“How have your parents been since his death?” Ozzy asks.
I dip my brush into the bucket of paint. “My mom will never be the same, the way I’m sure Tia will never be the same. But my dad keeps chugging along. It’s not that he doesn’t miss Brandon; he’s just better at suppressing his emotions. The harder he works, the less he thinks about Brandon. I was that way. After his death, all I wanted to do was get in my plane and do my job, but they forced me to take time off. So I sat at home thinking about him, and it was torture. My mom doesn’t keep as busy as my dad, so she has more time—too much time—to miss him.”