Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I put my hands on her cheeks. “I didn’t replace the ones we used at the bar.”
“You walk around with three condoms all packed together.” She looks up at me. “So you can save the I’m-a-virgin speech for someone else.” She tries not to sound hurt, and I hate it. “Now, if you can please move so I can get up?” She looks down at herself. “I’m leaking on the table.”
“Fine,” I concede, moving back and grabbing her hips to pick her up off the table before putting her on her feet, “but we are going to have a talk when we are both cleaned up.”
She turns and makes her way to the stairs, her perfect naked ass on display while the pants leg drapes after her. “Nope.” She stops on the first step. “You can let yourself out.”
I clap my hands together, bursting out laughing. “Sweetheart,” I say the nickname that is now officially hers in my book, “after waiting for you to come to me for a week and then finding out you were right here all along, under my nose.” I shake my head, tucking my dick in my pants. “Then finding you and having all of that.” I point at the door and to the table. “If you think I’m leaving here tonight”—I shake my head—“not a chance in hell.” She looks at me, her mouth hanging open. “Now, did you eat tonight or not?”
“What, you going to give me two orgasms and cook for me?”
“Four,” I remind her, “and yeah, if you’re hungry, I’ll cook for you.” I put my hands on my hips. “Now, are we eating or fucking again?”
“I cannot believe you.”
“Believe it, Sweetheart,” I reply, and she huffs up the stairs, pounding her feet. “Is that a no to you being hungry?” I ask her, and all I hear is the door slam shut, making me laugh and shake my head.
“What the fuck did I just get myself into?” I mumble and look up the steps, waiting for her to answer me since she has an answer for everything. When she doesn’t, I walk over to the door and pick up our jackets and her purse, hanging it on the hook before snatching up my T-shirt.
I lock the door and turn off the lights before walking up the steps and going to the bedroom with the door open. Seeing the bed made, I walk over to the corner where there is a chair near the window with no shades, tossing my T-shirt on it before kicking off my shoes. I hear the bathroom door open, and then I hear her feet move down the hallway. She screams when she catches me in her room. She’s wearing a long T-shirt. “What are you still doing here?” She puts her hand to her chest.
“I told you less than five minutes ago I wasn’t leaving.” I sit in the chair and pull off one of my cowboy boots, tossing it beside the foot of the couch. “You were there.”
“I was there.” She folds her arms over her chest, and I see her nipples poking out of the white shirt. “I also told you to leave.”
“We haven’t had our talk yet.” I pull off the other boot and toss it with the other one. “So I can’t leave.” She glares at me, and I wish there was more light in the room so I can see how crystal clear her eyes get when she’s angry. “Why did you leave?”
“I woke up, and it was time for me to go.” She walks into the room, putting her knee on the bed. “It was a good time to get out of there.”
“A good time to get out of there.” I repeat her words. “I woke up, and I swear I thought I dreamed you up. But then I knew I hadn’t dreamed you up because I could smell your perfume in the room, around me, on me.” I tell her what I did when I woke up and was alone in the bed without her. “I called your name, thinking you were in the bathroom. Then I got out of bed, and it was empty. I went to the bar, thinking maybe you got thirsty, and guess what I found?” I ask her, waiting, and she just rolls her eyes. “Nothing. I found nothing. I was standing there in my bar, naked.”
“You could have put your boxers on,” she retorts. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“I didn’t want to put my boxers on because I planned on having you one more time,” I inform her, running my hands through my hair. “So after finding you nowhere, I went to the tapes.”
“That’s a violation of privacy,” she hisses as she points at me, “and I can sue you.”
“Good, means we’ll have another time to see each other.” I chuckle. “I had to make sure I deleted it, and no one would be able to see what I was seeing.”