Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
But this? This is the message I get?
We’re just going to pretend it never happened? That I don’t know what his face looks like when he ejaculates?
A warm flush spreads across my skin at the filthy memory. I’m never going to be able to erase that image from my mind. His teeth biting into his lip. Hand clenched around his cock. The husky noise he made. Watching Tate Bartlett shudder in orgasm was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.
But okay. I guess we’re not going to talk about it.
Me: LOL thanks. Might be hard to get some kissing in, though. I got roped into babysitting, so Aaron’s going to keep me company.
Tate: Lame.
Me: I know. Maybe we’ll go out afterward if the folks don’t get back too late.
Tate: All right. Have fun.
Sighing, I lay the phone down. Hell, maybe it’s better we don’t talk about it. Just forget it ever happened.
Only, as with most impossible tasks, forgetting last night is … well … impossible.
“Bedtime is nine,” Nia is saying ten minutes later, as she and Dad slip into their shoes in the front hall. “They can watch one movie. Only one.”
I watch as she secures the ankle strap of one gold sandal. She looks beautiful tonight. Her hair is loose, tight black curls framing her face and making her appear softer; usually it’s pulled back in a low bun, giving her a more severe look. Her makeup is light, just the sweep of gold eyeshadow and a touch of mascara. She’s clad in a flowy blue dress with a unique pattern on it, paired with those strappy gold sandals.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, the compliment popping out before I can stop it. Experience has taught me that Nia is terrible at receiving compliments. Or at least ones that come from me. She typically dismisses them with a stiff wave of her hand.
Tonight, she surprises me. “Thank you.” She smooths the front of her dress. “My mother sent me this dress last year, but this is my first opportunity to wear it.”
“Care package from Haiti, huh? That’s cool.”
Nia smiles. “It’s always a wonderful surprise. Makes me very homesick.”
I’m pretty sure this is the first time she’s shared something this personal with me. Holy shit. Are we bonding?
Dad ruins the moment by peering past my shoulder into the living room, where my sisters are on the couch babbling to each other in French.
“Au revoir, mes petites chéries,” he calls out.
“Au revoir, Daddy!”
“Don’t give your sister too much trouble,” he warns.
“We won’t,” Roxy promises.
Dad kisses my cheek and ducks out the door. Nia lingers, her expression taking on a glint of panic.
“No soda,” she reminds me. “If they want a snack, there are rice cakes on the top shelf of the cabinet. Monique loves them, especially if you spread some peanut butter on them. Oh, and be sure to keep a close eye on her. She likes to climb the furniture.”
“We’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I’ll call you if I need anything. Go out and enjoy the concert.”
“Thank you, Cassandra.” Everyone else calls me Cassie or Cass, but in the eight years I’ve known her, Nia’s never called me anything but Cassandra.
I close the door behind them, lock it, and proceed to dance into the living room like a game show contestant who just got chosen to go onstage. “All right, the adults are gone!” I shout. “Let’s party!”
The twins burst into giggles. I flop down on the couch between them and throw an arm around each girl.
“So, I should warn you,” I say, “I invited a friend to hang out with us tonight.”
Roxy squeals. “What’s her name? How do you know her?”
“Well, firstly, it’s a him—”
“Ewwwww,” Mo says, making a face.
“What’s his name? How do you know him?” Roxy demands.
“His name is Aaron. You’ll like him. He’s really funny. I told him he can watch a movie with us.”
“I don’t want a movie. I want a story,” Monique whines. “I want Kit ’n McKenna!”
“We can do both,” I tell her. “Movie now, and a story at bedtime.”
At the reminder of their favorite bedtime story, I suddenly realize I haven’t heard from Robb in a few days. I gave him the story line for our Kit ’n McKenna book last week, but he still hasn’t sent back any concepts for the artwork. Since the printer I found takes about seven days to print the book, Robb and I need to finalize the illustrations by the end of next week if I want it to be ready in time for the girls’ party.
As Roxy continues to interrogate me about Aaron, a message from him pops up, informing me he’ll be here in forty minutes or so. When I told him we wouldn’t be eating together, he ended up driving to Charleston with his brother for dinner, and they’re on their way back now.