Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“I don’t understand,” she says, her brow wrinkling.
I step closer to her and she’s temptation personified, but I force myself not to touch her.
“I’m not here for sex. As much as I would love to take you into your bedroom and have you in every way I can imagine and then some, I’m restraining myself because I want to get to know you. I’ve had too many meaningless encounters. Now, I’m trying something new and I want to try it with you.”
Her mouth opens and her eyes search mine.
“Are you serious? We can make love and also get to know one another. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I take a deep breath.
“I know honey, but the physical chemistry between us is so insane that it could overshadow everything else. I want you to know me as a person, and for me to know you as a person too. Not just some random you met at the Cube.”
“You would never be that,” she murmurs.
I take the opportunity to seize her hand and kiss the back of it. “I know. You would never be that to me, either. Sweet dreams, Jane Cuesta.”
Then I walk to the stairwell. I can’t help myself, though. I look back and the curvy girl’s leaning in her doorway like a siren. Her tempting silhouette glows, backlit by the light in her apartment and I know if I don’t leave now, I never will.
But I want this to be real between us, and I want her to think straight about our burgeoning relationship. So with a huge sigh, and a firm grip on my cock, I jog down the stairs and away from the curvy girl.
6
Brent
* * *
Friday night’s cold shower is Saturday’s sense of purpose with my trainer. Mike comments, “Whoa, my man, I know you want to train rigorously, but if you don’t slow down, you’re going to injure yourself.”
I rack the weights and pant, “You keep everyone’s secrets, right, Mike? I’ve never heard you gossip about your other clients, so you’re good hearing the real shit, right?”
Mike nods affably.
“Yeah. Is everything okay?”
“I’m seeing someone.”
He smiles and rolls his eyes.
“Why is that a secret?”
“There’s an age difference.”
He shrugs.
“As long as she’s legal, why would it matter?”
“Let’s just say this isn’t a small gap. She’s twenty-five, and I’m in my late forties.”
But Brent doesn’t blink an eye. “My dad was seventy when I was born, and my mom was thirty-five. He was literally double her age, so I’m the product of a May December relationship myself. But the most important thing is: are you happy? Do you like her? Or is it just a physical relationship?”
I shake my head.
“I like her. I like her a lot, in fact.”
He nods wisely.
“Then it doesn’t matter. Age is just a number, my man. If you have a thing for grannies, that’s cool. I wouldn’t judge you.”
I start laughing, “She’s two decades younger than me, not prepared to set foot in the grave!”
“Well, this morning you were checking out Mrs. Gunderson with her walker, so who knows?”
I snort.
“I’m wasn’t checking her out. She looked like she was going to drop her weights on her head.”
He grins broadly.
“Just saying.”
I grin too.
“Yeah, whatevs. But that’s not even the worst part. This woman is my kid’s best friend. I’ve literally known her since she was ten or eleven.”
Mike thinks for a moment.
“Yeah, that is a little weird,” he sucks air in through tight teeth. “But she’s twenty-five now, right? That’s old enough to make your own choices.”
I scowl, grunting again as I pump iron.
“Well, that’s why I’m working out so hard. I’m trying to keep up with a saucy little minx.”
“Congratulations,” my trainer laughs. Then he says, “Hopefully, your daughter won’t mind. Hell, she might even be happy about it.”
I hope to god he’s right because Harlow doesn’t have a leg to stand on, seeing that she’s now married to my best friend. But we finish the workout discussing other things, and soon, Mike forgets I ever brought the subject up.
Later that week, I’m in the office, working on something for a Monday presentation when my daughter calls. “Hey, Dad!”
I put her on speaker phone so I can keep working. “Hey Har, how are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. You?”
“Great, just toiling away.”
“You know it’s Saturday, right?”
I scrub my face with my hands and laugh. “Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in.”
“Well, that’s sort of why I’m calling. Hang on,” she scolds the kids in the background before I hear a door shut. “Okay, now I can chat. Dad, what’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?” My heart races and I pray that Harlow’s not about to ask about Jane. I know we’ll have to have this talk at some point, but not now. This is not a good time.
Thankfully, she interrupts my mental ramblings with one of her own. “I know you’ve been busy with work, but you have me worrying about you. It’s been two weeks since our last call and you usually call me a couple times a week. Is everything okay? Is everything okay at Kombuchaid? Something happen with Nana and Pops? What is going on?”