Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
For a second, I imagine Kain’s expression if I did just that, but even with all my confidence, I’m not quite ready to be that brazen. Maybe next time.
I decide to go with a white lacy bra and panties with little ribbons securing them at the hips. When I’ve put a wave into my hair, I look positively innocent, which seems fitting considering our little text chat.
Maybe he’ll like pretending it’s my first time and he’s the one plundering my innocence. In a way, I wish he was. My real first time was a major disappointment. A lot of huffing and puffing on Ben’s part and zero enjoyment on mine.
When I spray my favorite perfume on my pulse points, I shiver with anticipation.
At 8 am, Mom yells her goodbyes up the stairs, and I tug on a cute blue pajama set which will be easy to remove.
I check my phone a million times, half expecting to receive a message from Kain telling me he’s not coming, swayed by a last-minute prick of conscience about having his wicked way with his best friend’s baby sister.
Except I’m not a baby anymore.
By the time I’ve made a quick protein smoothie for breakfast and consumed it in record time, the doorbell rings.
Oh god.
He’s here. No conscience stopping him, or at least, if there is, it’s not enough to keep him away.
When I finally open the door, there’s no going back. I know, as soon I see his sapphire eyes, framed by thick dark lashes that no man should have any business possessing, I’ll be lost.
I pad to the door, my bare feet almost noiseless. When my hand touches the handle, I have to inhale deeply to steady my rising nerves.
Pulling the door open slowly, I brace myself for the impact of Kain, but it’s futile. He looks like a god; dark hair still damp from the shower, a white tee that tugs across his impossibly broad, muscular chest like its threads are fighting a war to remain untorn. Thick thighs strain at his snug blue joggers. My eyes drift over him hungrily and without any embarrassment, it seems. I lick my lips and when I finally meet his gaze, Kain is smiling, with dancing eyes.
He’s amused. “Gabriella.” A simple nod of greeting, and the reverberation of his deep voice jolts me out of my daze.
“Kain.” I usher him to come in, sweeping the street outside quickly to check for nosy neighbors. We’re good.
The click of the door closing is shockingly loud, and then the silence of the house envelops us. Kain looks around a hallway that should be familiar, but the way he focuses on the photographs, it’s like he’s seeing everything for the first time.
“I miss those days.” He raises his head in the direction of an image of us when we were kids, standing together in the backyard. All the boys, Travis, Kain, Dalton, and Blake, have their arms around each other. I’m standing slightly to the left of Kain, dressed in a short green dress, with my hair pulled into long braids.
“Life was simpler,” I agree.
“Yeah.” He folds in his bottom lip, pinching it between his teeth, then, as if he forgot he was carrying a bag of groceries, he nods toward them. “Shall I put these in the kitchen?”
“Sure.” it feels very weird to follow this hunk of a man, who’s here to fuck me senseless, into the kitchen to talk dinner. “What did you bring?”
“Chicken thighs and a bunch of vegetables.”
“Perfect.” I switch the oven on and grab a tray.
“You’re going to do this now?” He seems surprised.
“If you want cooked food by the time you leave, we need to get it into the oven right now.”
“Okay.”
I take the bag from his hands and unload everything onto the counter. I grab my mom’s huge box of seasonings and herbs, and some oil. It doesn’t take long for me to chop the onions, bell peppers, zucchini, and potatoes into chunks. While I’m busy, Kain leans against the counter, watching with fascination. I toss them all into a big square stainless-steel pan, add enough oil to coat, and a mix of seasoning that I know is going to make everything taste delicious with a hint of heat. The chicken is added on top and then I toss it all around with my hands so that everything is mixed. “This is a one-pan meal,” I say. “The effort is in the preparation, and then you just leave it to cook.”
“So we don’t have to watch it?”
“Nope,” I say, covering the whole thing in foil and setting it into the warmed oven. I’ll set a timer on my phone, and we’ll cook it slowly to give us enough time. My heart skips a beat in my chest as Kain takes a step closer.
“Enough time, huh?”