Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I was a bit of a history lover myself, and there was no dousing the spark of interest. “Personal stories always fascinated me the most.”
“I know.” His eyes gave off a warm glow of mirth and fondness. “I may have checked out your library.”
I chuckled. If only I had a library of my own. What I did have were floor-to-ceiling shelves in the living room, one unit reserved for military history.
“Did your grandmother’s brothers make it back?”
He shook his head. “Only two of them survived the war. One drank himself to death a few years after. But Jefferson, the second youngest, died of old age when I was fourteen. His stories were my drug.”
I could imagine. My family was part English and part French, and they moved to the US right after the war. I was surrounded by veterans growing up. “An uncle of my father’s wrote a book about our family members who fought in the war. I must’ve read it a dozen times before I graduated high school.”
Peyton blushed a little for some reason. “It’s possible I found it. I reacted to the author’s last name—Delamare. It’s also possible it’s in my room now.”
I grinned. It made me happy that he was curious about my family too.
“Then I don’t have to tell you any stories,” I said. “I’ll listen to yours instead. Did your grandmother’s brothers fight in Europe or in the Pacific Theater?”
“Mostly the latter,” he answered. “One of them went to Italy, but the others were scattered around the Pacific. Jefferson was a Marine at Iwo Jima. The two eldest were there too, but they were in the Navy, so they didn’t go ashore.”
Peyton needed little to no prompting to share tales of his family members, and he was an amazing storyteller. He spoke animatedly about one of the brothers in particular, who’d been a Navy pilot. He even made me forget where I was.
Then he mentioned, just in passing, something that brought me back to the present.
His grandmother had died when Peyton was sixteen. Two years before his sister was born. He’d truly had no one else once his sister was in his care.
Goddammit, I was getting emotionally attached.
“Sir, wake up.”
I was almost there anyway… Since Cathryn had already taken Julia to the beach, I thought I’d get some extra rest.
“Sir.”
“Yes, yes.” I groaned and stretched out, then rolled onto my back and dragged a hand over my face. “What is it?”
Peyton stood in the doorway with clothes draped over his arm. “We’re in paradise, and I’m wondering how strict you are about clothes in eighty-five-degree heat.”
I chuckled drowsily and dragged myself up to lean back against the headboard.
It’d been dark when we’d arrived at our resort here in Martinique last night; it was understandable that Peyton wanted to go explore. But we had a meeting at eleven, so work came first.
“I’m quite generous, actually,” I yawned. “You don’t have to wear a tie.”
He blinked. “You call that generous, sir?”
“I do.” I smiled and patted the spot next to me. “Let’s see what you’re wearing today.” I shifted my legs off the mattress, and my feet landed on the granite floor tiles. Everything in the resort was new, after a hurricane passed straight through a couple years ago. The main building had been restored, but the bungalows, the clubhouse, the pool area with two restaurants and three bars, and the activity center had to be rebuilt from the foundations.
“I ate out on the terrace in just my trunks, and I got sweaty,” he said.
“So, you’ll have a refreshing shower later, in other words,” I replied. “I’m having the maid service pick up a few of my suits for dry-cleaning today. You should have some items you need washed too, yes?”
“Yes, sir.” He tossed his gray suit pants, socks, and a light blue shirt on the bed. “Are those okay?”
“Definitely. Just make sure you wear your suit jacket too.” I leaned forward and grazed my nose along his abs. Mmm. He smelled amazing. He must’ve showered already too. Pushing away the sheets pooling around my middle, I stood up and wasn’t too surprised when Peyton cursed.
“Do you always sleep naked?”
“Yes. You should try it.” I hooked two fingers into the waistband of his trunks. How disappointing. He wore briefs under them. “Take these off.” Next, I moved to stand behind him when he bent over. I grabbed him by his hips, hard, and pressed my cock against his ass.
That got me a lovely reaction. He gasped and almost fell forward.
“Jesus,” he breathed.
“I’ll say.” I released him slowly and kneaded his perfect ass cheeks. Today was the day I was going to see him without underwear, I decided. “You’re making your boss hard, Peyton.”
“I’m sorry?” he squeaked. Fucking squeaked. How I wanted to take advantage of his embarrassment. It was so goddamn sexy.