Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“You’re good at this,” I said as he crouched down to reach in between my thighs, surprisingly gentle considering he’d just assaulted the same place with a vibrator not even an hour ago.
“Thank you.” He turned me around and moved my hair out of the way to rub my shoulders and the back of my neck. I laughed when he slid his hands into my armpits. “Stop it, you’re like a kid,” he complained as I wriggled away from him.
“I can’t help it. I’m ticklish there.”
He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me back into place, his hands skimming down my hips and the sides of my legs, then up the backs of my thighs and through the crack of my ass. Then he pressed up close behind me. “There. Squeaky clean.”
I turned around and looped my arms around his neck. I had to tilt my head back to look up at him, he was so tall. “Is that just so it’s more fun to get me dirty again?”
“Definitely.” He locked his forearms around my lower back. “But I need food first. I’m hungry.”
“Me too. Should we go out for breakfast?”
“I’ve got a better idea. I’ll cook for you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You cook?”
“Don’t look so surprised, princess.” He pinched my butt. “We don’t all have live-in chefs. And I lived alone for years. It was either cook or starve.”
“What do you like to cook?”
“Meat. But I can also do some stuff with eggs.”
“I like eggs and meat. Do you need groceries?”
“I think I can impress you with what we bought the other day.”
I smiled. “Okay, then. Impress me.”
Xander said he didn’t want me in his way, so I stayed out of the kitchen while he made breakfast for us. With a cup of coffee in my hand, I stood by one of the front windows and watched the rain fall in heavy sheets. The world outside seemed dull and gray, even the vibrant emerald-colored pines had faded to a dreary shade of army green. The temperature had dropped too. I shivered as I brought my cup to my lips.
“Cold?” Xander called from the kitchen over the sizzle of bacon in the skillet.
I hadn’t realized he’d been watching me. “A little.”
“There’s a sweatshirt in my bag there by the couch.”
It was sort of ridiculous how giddy I felt as I set down my coffee and dug through his bag. I found the dark blue hooded sweatshirt and tugged it over my head. It was dark blue with NAVY printed in highway-paint yellow block letters across the front. It was also gigantic—not only did it cover my tank top but my denim shorts as well. The thing fell midway down my thighs, and my hands were lost in its sleeves.
But it was cozy and smelled like him. Wearing it reminded me of being in high school when the boy you liked offered you his hoodie late one night at the county fair. Pulling it on for the first time was a little magical.
Careful to keep my back to him, I pulled the collar over my nose and mouth, inhaling deeply. The scent of him hit me straight in the lady bits and spread throughout my body from there, like streetlamps coming on one by one all the way down Main Street.
“Does it fit?”
“No. But I like it. Thank you.” His bag was still open, and I noticed he’d brought his camera. I picked it up, switched it on, and focused on him working in the kitchen. “You brought your camera.”
He looked up. “Hey.”
“Come on. Give me a smile.”
“Put that away.”
“What’d you bring it for anyway? Are you going to take pictures of me while I’m sleeping and sell them to Splash!?”
“No!” He frowned. “I’d never do that.”
“I know. I’m only teasing.” I tucked the camera back in the bag and spied the box of condoms. Picking it up, I held it aloft. “Wow. The entire box, huh?”
“My instincts were telling me it was going to happen no matter what I said.”
“That might explain sticking one condom in your bag. You brought thirty-six.” I shook the box.
“I was fairly confident I’d enjoy the experience.” He grinned arrogantly as he cracked eggs into a bowl. “And you would too.”
“Oh, now he smiles.” I shook my head, tossing the box back into his bag. “What are you making over there? It smells delicious.”
“Denver omelets served with bacon and a side of arugula.”
My stomach growled. “Yum.” I wandered over and sat at the counter, watching him move confidently from skillet to mixing bowl to chopping board to fridge and back again. He looked even bigger because of the small size of the kitchen. “So how’d you learn to cook?”
“Just sort of figured it out, I guess.” He took a sip from his coffee mug. “I was always hungry, and my dad worked long hours. Austin did a lot around the house and drove the younger kids to and from their activities, so unless I wanted to starve, I had to learn to cook. That was kind of the way I pitched in.”