Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“There’s a Savemart on County Road Seven, going into Del Rio. But if you can wait until tomorrow, I know Josh and Haley over at Grumpy’s would appreciate your business.”
“I work tomorrow, remember?”
“They stay open until eight o’clock on weeknights so people can go in after work.”
“All right. I mean, I moved to a small town for a reason.”
“Oh? What’s that reason, Vannah?”
Now I’ve stepped in it. I don’t want to get into my reasoning.
“Just tired of life in the big city,” I say. “I’ll wait. I’ll do my shopping tomorrow night. But in the meantime, I’ve got nothing to eat in the house.”
“Then I suppose I have to feed you today.”
The coffee maker dings, signaling that the coffee is ready. I pull out two mugs and pour them each full of coffee, handing one to Falcon. “I don’t expect you to feed me.”
“You fed me.”
“What?”
He narrows his gaze. “You fed a hunger that was more profound than any hunger I ever had for food.”
Oh my God. My entire body suppresses a shudder.
What is up with him and his words? But it’s not just the words. It’s the way he says them. That deep voice. That brooding intensity.
“You’re pretty cute when you’re embarrassed.”
I touch my hands to my cheeks. They’re nearly as hot as the coffee. I’m sure they’re crimson.
“There’s something nice about a small town on a Sunday morning,” Falcon says. “The coffee shop has breakfast pastries, and then there’s also Junie Bee’s Diner. She’s open Sundays. Closed Tuesday and Wednesday. Midweek.”
“That makes sense. To take advantage of when people are off.”
Why did I even say that? It’s obvious.
“Exactly. You get used to small-town life. We go at a slower pace here, and the hours are different. But it’s all I know.”
Except it’s not all he knows. He knows the regimented life of an inmate. Where you eat when they feed you or go hungry.
“So what do you say?” He takes a sip of the coffee. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah. I… I need a shower.”
“I think I saw one in your bedroom.”
My entire body quakes. He’ll need a shower too. He doesn’t have a change of clothes here.
“Don’t you want to go home? Change your clothes?”
“Now why would I want to do that, Vannah, when I can stay here and shower with a beautiful woman?”
I gulp.
And I walk back into my bedroom, toward the bathroom…where the shower is.
36
FALCON
I stand in the doorway of her bedroom, and I watch.
I watch as Savannah removes her sweatpants and tank top. As her hard nipples protrude. She walks toward her en suite bathroom door.
I should leave her alone.
This is so fucked up. I’m so fucked up. I’m messed up from my time behind bars, and I’m screwing my parole officer.
And she’s letting me.
I haven’t been this wound up in a woman in a long time. Of course, I haven’t had the chance for the last eight years. I’m probably just horny.
That and the fact that she’s my parole officer. That makes it forbidden.
I could never resist the forbidden fruit.
She stands in her doorway for a moment, her back to me, and then she walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower.
She looks in the mirror, picks up a hairbrush, runs it through her silky hair. I expect her to walk into the shower then. The water is no doubt heated by now.
And she turns, looks at the glass doors leading to the shower, takes a step forward, but then looks over her shoulder, meeting my gaze.
“You coming?” she asks.
“Absolutely.”
All I have on is my jeans, and they come off quickly. My dick is already hard, but we can fuck in the shower.
She steps into the shower, and I stand in the doorway, taking care that the water doesn’t splash onto her floor. I watch as she leans her head back, closes her eyes, lets the shower water plaster her hair away from her face. Drops of water land on her long eyelashes, trail over her cheeks, over the swells of her breasts.
I step in, closing the shower door behind me.
It’s not a large shower by any means. The two of us barely fit in here. Really no room for fucking up against the shower wall.
Just as well.
Savannah grabs a bottle of shampoo from the hanging shelf on the showerhead and squeezes some into her palm, and then, to my surprise, she turns around and pushes me into the shower so my hair gets wet.
Then she reaches up and massages the shampoo into my scalp.
Not exactly what I was expecting, but I’m surprised at how erotic the sensations are.
Her fingernails are short and just sharp enough to scratch my head perfectly without hurting it.
She washes my hair and then turns me around. “Rinse off now,” she says.
By the time I’m rinsed and looking at her again, she’s lathering shampoo through her own hair.