Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Opening up the washing machine, I toss her jeans and socks in, then her long-sleeved red t-shirt and black hoodie, socks, and bra. I find myself holding her panties. They’re simple cotton and pink with red balloons on them. They’re adorable and only add to that air of innocence the girl has about her that sets me on fire. My head is swimming as I stare at the pair of panties in my hand, and before I even think about it, I find myself raising them to my nose and inhaling the sweet, light scent of her musk. A low groan passes my lips as my cock thickens in my jeans.
I hear the shower turn off, so I drop the panties into the washer, throw in some detergent and fabric softener, and then start the load as I fight off my raging hard-on. A few minutes go by, and when she still hasn’t come out to the living room, I poke my head into the bedroom. Cassie is so small and delicate that when dressed in my clothes, she looks like a child playing dress up. But she’s stretched out on my bed, fast asleep, the ordeal of her evening having taken its toll.
I stand and watch her sleep for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of her chest and the sound of her deep, even breaths. Her rich, red hair is splayed out like a fan under her head. She looks so peaceful. Her face is smooth and untroubled—the complete opposite of the harried and bedraggled girl who stumbled into the bar.
A small smile on my lips, I close the door and let her sleep.
2
CASSIE
My eyes flutter open and I sit bolt upright in the bed, not sure where I am for a moment. It takes a second, but I finally orient myself, recalling everything from last night that led me to where I am right now. The memory makes my stomach churn, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sunlight streams in through the window to my right, the storm that I ran through last night had finally subsided. My head spinning, I glance down at myself and see that I’m wearing clothes that seem like they were made for a giant.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up. The air is saturated with the aroma of coffee and bacon frying. Quietly opening the door, I pad out of the bedroom and walk through the apartment, stepping into the kitchen to find Cash quietly singing along as he cooks. My heart flutters inside of me as I watch him quietly for a moment. He moves fluidly and gracefully around the kitchen for such a large man. Cash turns around, and when he sees me watching him, he stops singing, looking slightly embarrassed, and smiles warmly.
“Good morning,” he says.
His voice is a deep rumble that sends goosebumps crawling across my skin and fills my belly with a delicious warmth.
“Good morning,” I reply. “I’m so sorry I stole your bed last night. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right. You looked comfortable, so I didn’t want to bother you,” he replies. “I was fine on the couch.”
“This is your house. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
He waves me off. “Believe me, I’ve slept on worse. The couch is just fine,” he says. “Speaking of the couch, I put your clothes on the couch.”
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me last night when I gave him my clothes, but the realization that he saw my panties suddenly dawns on me. It makes my stomach lurch, and my face grows warm with embarrassment.
“Thank you so much,” I stammer.
“Of course.”
I step into the kitchen, and as if the clothes aren’t enough of a reminder of the size discrepancy between us, the way he towers over me reinforces it. He’s lean and fit, his shoulders are wide, and his body is taut with corded muscles that make him seem as wide as I am tall. He obviously works out a lot and takes good care of himself.
As I stare up into his golden-hazel eyes, my heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. My stomach turns over on itself and I swallow hard, the air between us charged and crackling with the tension of expectation. He looks like he wants to kiss me. And if I’m being honest, despite everything that happened last night, I don’t know if I’d stop him. He clears his throat, runs a hand through his thick and tousled sandy brown hair, and looks away, the moment between us passing.
“Anyway,” he says. “Have a seat. I made breakfast.”
I sit at the table, and he sets a plate down in front of me. On the radio, Imagine Dragons’ hit ‘Natural’ begins to play, and I can’t help but notice Cash bopping along with the music. He puts a pair of pancakes down on my plate, then a pair on his. Next, he sets a small plate with bacon and sausage on it and puts a small dish of butter down as well.