Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I hiss, almost going off in my pants. “Careful, angel.”
“If anyone is going to take it, I want it to be you.” She does it again, and I have to grab her hips to make her stop.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” I place a kiss on the top of her head and close my eyes to try and catch my breath. “Just not yet.”
When I glance down, I see a wet spot on my pants and I don’t know if it’s from her or me, and I nearly lose control. My hands are shaking as I slide them down her legs and lean back in the chair.
“Okay, that’s enough hugging for now.” She looks at me with hooded eyes and licks her lips.
“Can we hug again after dinner?”
“Maybe,” I say softly and tuck her hair behind her ears. “You’re too tempting.”
That makes her smile, and the sight of it lights up my soul. How has she come to mean so much to me so quickly? And how can I tell her that I’m never letting her go?
Nine
DEMI
“Don’t you think so, Demi?” Phoebe asks.
“What?” My fork full of creamy carrot cake pauses before it reaches my mouth.
I really am terrible at paying attention to what people are saying when I’m eating. Between the yummy dinner and my body still humming with desire from Curt, my head is all over the place.
“We could make your birthday cake ourselves.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I mean, we could order one, I’m sure, but it might be fun to make.” Phoebe is all smiles from across the table.
“We can do both if you want, angel,” Curt suggests as he drapes his arm casually over the back of my chair.
“Why? Do you think we’ll mess up and might need a back-up cake?” Phoebe narrows her eyes on Curt.
“Everything you make is perfect.” Boone is quick to defend his wife.
“I don't want her to have to make her own birthday cake if she doesn’t want to.” I lean in closer to Curt. He did put his arm around my chair, so I think that’s an opening to get closer. I might be wrong, but I’m still going to do it.
Phoebe’s mouth forms a perfect O shape. “Oh.”
“I would love to bake a cake. I’m just not sure I’ll be the best at it. We only ever used the oven to heat up frozen things like pizza and fish sticks.” That’s as far as my oven knowledge goes.
“We don’t have to. It’s your birthday, and I thought it would be fun.” She shrugs, trying to hide her disappointment. Phoebe is trying really hard to cheer me up. I think she’s carrying a little guilt over the fact that it was her father that bought me. Or tried to buy me.
“I think it would be fun too,” I agree. “I’ve always wanted to try and bake before. I’m happy to do it. If it’s not too much trouble.” I add the last part quickly.
“Nothing is too much trouble. Stop thinking about that, angel.” Curt’s thumb starts to drift up and down my shoulder. I think he’s trying to soothe me, but it only has that rush of heat forming between my legs again. For such a big man, his touch is always so gentle.
“Then we’ll make a cake. Let's do a test run!” Phoebe jumps out of her chair, not waiting for me to agree. She grabs me by hand and pulls me out of my seat and toward the kitchen.
“We didn’t finish our dessert,” I point out.
“I’ve got you, angel,” Curt says as he and Boone come into the kitchen, each carrying the carrot cake we’d left behind at the table. “Eat every bite,” he orders as he sets the plate down on the kitchen island for me. My breath catches when he leans down and kisses me on the top of my head. “Have fun.” With that, he turns and leaves me in the kitchen with Phoebe.
“Come on, I promise baking isn’t torture,” she laughs.
“I know,” I respond, my eyes lingering on the doorway Curt left from. I want to chase after him but I don’t want to be too needy. My mother used to tell me all the time I was too needy. I always try so hard to not be.
“Then why do you look like you want to cry?”
“I don’t.” I spin back around.
“Would you rather be with Curt?” She gives me a knowing smile. “I don’t blame you, but I think you need a bit of a distraction for now.” She hands me a pink apron. I put it on, and when she ties it for me, I do the same for her.
We spend the next few hours baking in the kitchen. I realize that Phoebe and I might come from two different worlds, but when it comes to our parents, we actually have a lot in common. Both of us lacked any real guidance from them. I also point out to her if not for her father trying to buy me, who knows where I’d be right now. In a way he might have saved me.