Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I did.”
“So we can go home now?” I don’t know why she’s so amused and why her eyes are sparkling like wildflowers after a fresh rain. I don’t know why that makes my chest pinch as badly as it does.
“We can go home now.”
I crank the car into reverse and peel out of the parking lot like it’s the grocery store’s fault that I’m going all haywire on the inside. I manage to get a few miles down the road, heading back home—I apply that term to the house lightly, as it’s never been a true home to me—before the smell hits.
“What the good heavens is that ungodly smell?” I jerk the car down a side road and park in front of a row of houses. Aspen is very, very quiet, but she’s doing that thing where she’s trying not to laugh.
I get out, race around to the back of the car, and jerk open the trunk.
The smell is strong here, and it hits me all at once. It’s ungodly, but it’s not ungodly bad. It’s ungodly good. Nothing should smell that good. Nothing. She’s clearly bought something unnatural.
I rummage through the paper bag until I find the offending offender.
It comes in a plastic container—black on the bottom, with a clear dome overtop.
I rip the dome off and cast it aside. Now, the smell is real, and it makes my mouth water. I can’t remember ever feeling this hungry. This thing is a witch in disguise.
Rotisserie chicken.
I can’t help myself. Right there in the middle of suburbia land, I tear off a drumstick. The skin is crispy and perfectly seasoned, a light golden brown. I tear it straight off the meat. It’s still so hot, so good, and I can’t eat it fast enough. When I’m done, the bone gets tossed back into the container before I attack the other drumstick. It doesn’t come off cleanly, but that’s not a problem. I just toss the bone away, pull the meat off the bird, and stuff big chunks in my mouth.
This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Ever.
I can only say that because I haven’t tasted Aspen. Not there. Not yet.
Wow, look at me. Ravaging a rotisserie chicken straight out of the car’s trunk, thinking thoughts I can’t control, having a good night’s sleep, and coming at least three times this morning. Who the hell am I right now?
A door shuts, and Aspen appears in my peripheral. She looks absolutely delighted by this development.
Though I’m not sure which one. The chicken or the sex.
I might not be sure about that, but I am sure this is a good day. It’s a day I want to do again and again. With her. Is that on the table? I have no idea. I’ve never felt so out of control.
“Darn rotisserie chickens.” She grins at me as I remove half the breast and start munching on it. “They’re pretty much impossible to resist, aren’t they? I’m sure they’re enough to drive anyone mad. No one can wait. They’re that fragrant. They’re torturous beasts all the way home. Plus, they’re great. They’re so versatile. You can make them into anything and eat them on anything. They drive pets mad too. Dogs and cats alike. Believe me, I know. I’ve been over at friends’ houses, and I’ve seen how their pets react.” Her eyes sweep over me. “Pretty much like that.” My face heats up. What am I even doing? I could say the sex worked up a real appetite, but really? Am I really going to go there? Me, who is known for my uncompromising self-control? “Don’t worry.” She pats my arm. “I think you’re adorable.” She pauses. Her smile gets a tad bit evil, and my cock leaps at the sight of it. It knows what she’s thinking. “And about as delicious as that chicken.”
Adorable? Delicious? I’m a soldier. I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime fighting other people’s wars. I’ve used weapons, and I’ve been used as a weapon. I know more about violence than I’ll ever know about love and tenderness. No, I’m certainly not adorable. Deadly, maybe.
I lick my fingers, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.
“Hey.” Aspen grazes my arm lightly. I have everything covered up by my usual black outfit. My Henley takes her touch, but it’s like I’ve been burned straight down to my bones. “Rick, it’s okay. You can eat the chicken out of the car trunk if you want. I didn’t realize you were that hungry, but of course you are. We worked up an appetite having crazy, wild, steamy sex.”
“Shh!” I exclaim. She practically just shouted that out.
I glance around without really looking, scanning for signs of danger and people with their eyes popping out of their heads because they just saw a guy pull over and start cramming chicken in his face and then overheard his sort of wife talking about all the wild banging that happened earlier.