Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I just wanna stay in bed. Watch some crap TV. You aced Thermo, thanks to me, so you have to do what I say for the rest of the year, right?”
“Aced by a hair,” I say, “and pretty sure that wasn’t the agreement.”
“Stop pretending you don’t like me bossing you around.”
Fair enough.
“Well, I do have the day off, if you really want to boss me around some more today.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea—Wait, it’s Sunday. I’ve gotta be at Activate Kindness at eleven.”
I grab my phone off his nightstand and check the time. “So you’ve got two hours. I guess I should get up and—”
“No,” Atlas says, gripping me tighter. “You’re not getting out of this bed.”
His head bobs up and down with my chest as I chuckle. “Greedy Atlas.”
“Damn right.” He kisses my torso softly, then buries his face into it like a pillow.
A warm sensation pulses through me.
His tight hold makes me think of how jealous he used to get about Ash and Brenner wanting to fuck me. Like he just wants to keep me all to himself…and I want him to keep me all to himself. So much.
“Come on,” I say. “I need some breakfast. I’m hungry.”
“Good timing. I’m hard.” He peeks up at me again, a grin steadily overtaking his face.
After twenty minutes and two jerk-off sessions, we finally force ourselves apart and get out of bed. We run through our morning routine, brushing our teeth and showering. Then I work on my laptop at Atlas’s desk, posting a response to the reading I have to get done before tomorrow. As I finish up, I grab a Sharpie from Atlas’s pencil holder and scratch off the task from my agenda.
I notice the thick line from the marker, the smooth edges, and it’s like I don’t even have to think about it, just know what to do next. I flip over my right wrist and slide my thermal sleeve up, carefully writing along my forearm…A…T…going up toward my elbow.
The completion of each letter thrills me—who the fuck knows why? And as I get to the S, I feel satisfied, the way I do once we’ve both come and collapsed onto each other’s bodies.
When my upload finishes, I join Atlas in the kitchen, where he’s already busy at the stove, folding cheese into an omelet.
“Ooh, an omelet—a fancy morning.”
“I already mixed the pancake batter and put it in the fridge. You’re welcome.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“I am sweet,” he says with a shrug.
“Well, I hope you warmed Sarah Jessica-Nadine’s bottle so I can feed her before I head off.”
“I don’t wanna be the one to break it to you, but considering how fast she gestated and that sixth tentacle she’s growing, I think we might need to take her to the doctor.”
“Such a concerned daddy. Maybe you can swing by the doc on the way back from Activate Kindness?” I sneak up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and planting a kiss on his cheek, stealing a quick whiff. There’s a hint of mint from his shampoo, but not enough to mask what’s all Atlas.
We finish our breakfast preparations, and soon we’re at the kitchen table. I’m packing a stack of pancakes in my mouth as Atlas forks some of his omelet into his.
“What?” I say around a mouthful when I notice his eyes on me.
“Just remembering how annoying I used to think it was watching you eat like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Now you think it’s cute?”
“Now I think it’s tolerable.”
“Liar.”
He shakes his head, sips some OJ as I swallow.
I don’t want to spoil the mood, but I also know now’s my chance to bring this up before he heads off. “Did you see Mom sent us a group text?”
“This is the bad part about dating you. I can’t pretend I didn’t see group texts from our parents.”
“She wants to get RSVPs for your dad’s winter gala so she can get a head count.”
“And her dutiful son is gonna make sure I’m present?”
“Her dutiful son wants you to be present.”
He winces. “I don’t like you knowing that’ll work on me.”
“Yes, you do.” I lean over and steal a kiss.
“Winter gala,” he huffs. “We just survived the holidays, and they’re still making up fake shit for parties. Can’t they just give us a little time to adjust to being back in school?”
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon. But I enjoy that it makes you a little grumpy. Makes me feel like we’re an old married couple.”
He smirks, and as I’m about to fork into my half-eaten omelet, he says, “What’s this?”
He takes my hand and turns it. The A is showing, and he slides my sleeve up to see the rest of it.
I wait for him to tease me about it—I’m not even sure why, since he hadn’t done that when I talked to him about my secret wish—but he strokes his thumb across it, between the A and the T.