Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
A soft moan echoes from her throat.
“But first, we eat. Don’t eat too much. I want you to have energy, but not to feel full. I don’t want you uncomfortable in any way tonight.”
“All right. It smells divine. What are we having?”
“Something simple. Lasagna. We’ll each eat a small portion, and there will be plenty of leftovers if we’re hungry afterward.” I lower my eyelids slightly. “You’ll be hungry, Skye. You’re going to use a lot of energy tonight.”
She nods hesitantly. “Whatever you want, Braden. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Marilyn makes excellent lasagna.”
“I’m sure Marilyn makes excellent everything.”
I lead her to the dining room, where the table has already been set. Two glasses of red wine sit beside the plates, and the lasagna is covered. An Italian loaf with olive oil for dipping, and a small green salad.
That’s it.
And it’s perfect.
I pull out her chair, and she sits. Her nipples are hard and turgid, and they don’t escape my gaze.
She’s wondering if I’m going to get undressed.
But she won’t ask.
She knows it’s not her place.
I sit across from her and serve her a small square of the lasagna. The salad has already been plated, and a slice of bread sits on her bread dish. Then I serve myself.
This is a casual meal. Normally we’d eat our salad first, but tonight it’s all served together. She smiles. I’m doing this for her. To make her comfortable. Even though she’s naked, I’m making this casual for her.
“Dig in,” I say from across the table.
She begins with a forkful of salad. It’s dressed with a honey vinaigrette. She pulls off a piece of her bread and dips it in the olive oil. The olive oil has been infused with something spicy, most likely cayenne or jalapeño with a touch of garlic.
And then the lasagna. The sauce is acidic with a hot spiciness due again to hot pepper.
I love to watch Skye eat. She’s not a timid eater. I take a bite of my salad, letting the tangy dressing float over my tongue.
I swallow, touch my napkin to my lips, and then pick up my glass of wine. “To discovery.”
She picks her glass up and clinks it against mine. “To discovery.” Then she takes a sip.
“What wine is this?” she asks.
“It’s a Brunello di Montepulciano from Italy, made from the Sangiovese grape.”
“It’s wonderful. So juicy and spicy. Perfect with this meal.”
I nod and take another sip. “Eat slowly. We’ll only have one glass of wine, as well.”
“Okay.”
She takes dainty bites of my food. She finishes all of her salad, most of her bread, and half of her lasagna. Good. She won’t be too full.
Neither will I. I eat half of my salad and all of my lasagna. No bread.
She pats her lips with her napkin and then rests it on the side of her plate.
I meet her gaze, my eyes heavy-lidded. “Are you ready, Skye?”
“Yes, Braden. I’m ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I lead her to my bedroom, where candlelight emits a soft glow.
I wanted to make tonight special for Skye, so I lit some candles. I don’t usually have candles at my place. When I’m at a restaurant, I ask the waiter to remove any candles from the table.
Fire is not something I want in my life.
But this is for Skye. I’ve given her candlelight, to make the mood romantic.
I cup her cheek. “I was ready to take your ass that night at the club, but in retrospect, I’m glad it didn’t happen there.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” I thumb her lower lip.
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? This is where we should engage in that intimate act for the first time. That’s not to say we won’t do it at the club, too, but for the first time, we should be here, in an environment where you’re the most comfortable. Where you feel safe.”
“I always feel safe with you, Braden.”
“I know. I guess I’m not explaining what I mean very well. Let me be blunt. I changed my mind. I want to do it here. In my bedroom. I want to be here because this is something intensely personal to me. Personal and private, and I want us to be alone.”
“But Christopher and the rest of the staff—”
“Aren’t here. I sent them all away for the weekend. They’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
“Who will drive me home, then?”
“No one. You’re not going home this weekend, Skye. You’re staying here. With me.”
She smiles. “That sounds good.”
“I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make this good for you in a way I couldn’t at the club. You’ll be pampered.”
In the candlelight, her breasts glow. I drop my gaze and groan from my chest. She’s quivering. Naked and quivering.
I’m so ready. I don’t want to wait any longer.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” I say, “and we’re going to do it right.”
Being here means something to me. Here, in my bedroom in Boston, where I don’t do things I may participate in at the club.