Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
But he didn’t leave.
He stayed in bed and pulled my sweaty, naked and exhausted body half on top of him. His hand stroked my lower back as we both floated down to earth, but within a few minutes, he had fallen asleep.
I lift my head and stare at his peaceful expression. Bain is one of those guys who’s always smiling and has a perpetually mischievous look on his face. All of that is smoothed out now as he sleeps, and I resist the urge to brush aside a lock of his dark hair that’s fallen over his forehead.
I could wake him up and kick him out. What we do best is already done, but instead, I slowly push myself off him and slide out of bed without waking him. A quick trip to the restroom to clean up, because this whole sex without a condom thing—while hot as hell—is messy. After I nab the T-shirt he’d been wearing under his Titans sweatshirt, I slither into it. It swallows me up, coming just below mid-thigh, but it smells so damn good.
Grabbing my laundry basket as quietly as I can, I slip out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind me.
The first thing I do is start a load of clothes before considering what part of the house to clean first. The living room needs a good vacuuming from all the dead pine needles. But that will create noise and for some reason, I feel proprietary of Bain’s sleep. Well, I know the reason… he made me come three times before finally letting himself go so he deserves a nap.
Smiling to myself, I put my earbuds in, crank up some Lizzo and start on the kitchen. I unload the dishwasher and reload it with a sink full of dishes I’d let accumulate. I shimmy, bop and gyrate to “Juice,” and by the time I’m scrubbing a pan that I made a casserole in a few days ago, I’m extolling right along with Lizzo about how much I love “Boys.”
I do a running-man shuffle from the sink to the cabinet to return the casserole dish and after closing the door, I prepare to shuffle to the laundry room.
I screech as I see Bain standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Wearing nothing but his briefs, he’s grinning at me as one of my hands goes to my heart, which nearly leapt out of my chest. I remove one earbud.
“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me,” I gasp.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you got some serious fucking moves?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement.
“A time or two,” I reply dryly. “I was a dancer long before I became a nurse.”
“Really?” He pushes off the wall and walks toward me. Bain takes me by the hips but doesn’t pull me in, merely stares down at me with interest. “What type of dancing?”
“A bit of everything from ballet to jazz to tap. I really got into hip-hop in high school and was on a dance team in college.”
“It’s sexy as fuck,” he says, leaning back to take me in. “Especially in my T-shirt.”
“Maybe I’ll twerk for you sometime,” I tease.
Bain releases me, his hands clasped over his chest. “Please, please don’t let that be a joke.”
Snickering, I lay my earbuds on the counter. “I’ve got to switch the laundry.”
“How come you didn’t wake me up?” he asks as he follows.
“You deserved it after the orgasms you gave me.”
“Got more where those came from,” he says, his tone suggestive enough that I know he’d dole them out right now. But before I can discern if I want to blow off more work to jump back into bed, he says, “Where’s your vacuum? I’ll start on the living room.”
For the next two hours, Bain helps me clean the house. There’s not much to it since I mainly only use the living room, kitchen and my bedroom, but things accumulate since I’m so busy. He even helps me fold my laundry, insisting on handling my panties and bras so he can check them out.
We talk amiably as we work at the dining room table where I dumped all the clothes fresh out of the dryer.
“What was your Christmas like this year?” I ask curiously. “You said you already put your decorations away.”
Bain’s inspecting a black thong as he answers, “My parents came to visit.”
“Are you close to them?”
“Very. Also to my older brother, Carson, but he jetted off to Cabo with his girlfriend. What about your parents?”
“My dad bolted when I was little. I don’t really remember him so it’s just been me, Drake and my mom.”
“And she’s back in Minnesota?” he asks, his eyes flicking to me before going back to fold a pair of lime-green panties.
“Yeah… she’s got a huge group of friends there and is active in the church.”