Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She looks around shamelessly, taking it all in. “It’s very . . .” She pauses, then smirks at me. “Clean. My place must make your skin crawl if this is how you live.”
I laugh at her assessment of my home, and the comparison to hers. Shaking my head, I say, “Naw, different decorating styles. I like a throw pillow. You like to throw undies on the lamp. Both work.” Pulling her coat from her shoulders and hanging it on a hook by the door, I ask, “Hungry? Beer? Wine?”
“Wine would be amazing,” she says with a sigh, falling to the couch. I hustle to the kitchen, pour her a glass of red, grab a beer for myself, and return as quickly as I can. She might as well be plucking at my strings like a puppet master. “Thank you,” she says after taking a small sip.
I sit beside her, reclining comfortably, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch, and spreading my legs. I’m feigning confidence, but I swallow half of my beer in one gulp because, truth be told, I’m nervous as a virgin on a first date, no evidence of my history as a player in sight. This is too important. She is too important, and I don’t want to mess this up.
“How was work?”
“I was in the field for a basketball game, but I also had some interesting things to report after the doubleheader wins by my favorite team. I might’ve had a bit too much to say about the goalie, though.” She lies against me, letting her head fall to my shoulder as she snuggles into my side.
“As long as it’s all good, you can talk about me all you want.”
“No promises,” she jokes. “How was your day?”
“Good. Did my Fritzi-prescribed homework, cleaned this place up, got a bath ready for you—”
“What? A bath?” Her smile stretches her lips and her eyes sparkle as she jerks back to look at me. “Are you serious? What are we doing sitting here then? C’mon!” She stands, pulling me from the couch, and when I get up, too, she curls against my chest. “You are unexpectedly sweet.”
I wrap my arm around her waist. “Unexpectedly? You mean you didn’t expect it from me, or at all? Me? Probably understandable, but you should always be treated like this.”
She frowns as something flashes in her eyes. “I’m never . . . ,” she murmurs, trailing off. Her eyes clear as she meets my gaze boldly. “Just you.”
Feeling like she’s having a heavy realization, I let her think on that as I take her hands to guide her down the hall. She glances sideways at my bed, but I don’t pause, leading her into the bathroom. She gasps, letting go of my hands to cover her mouth. “This is like a movie!” she exclaims as I light the candles surrounding the tub and check that the water is still hot.
Once that’s done, I drop down to my knee to slip her heels off. She holds on to my shoulders until she places her bare feet on the warm tile. “Dalton.” Her voice is whispered, choked in her throat, and I glance up. She places her palm on my smooth cheek, and I tilt into her touch. “Thank you.”
I rise from her feet, my hands stopping at her waist to pull her blouse free. It lifts over her head easily as she helps, and then she undoes the button at her waist, shimmying her pants down and stepping out of them. Standing in her matching black bra and panties, she’s an absolute vision that I commit to memory. I run a gentle finger along the strap at her shoulder, and it falls down, so I reach behind her to unhook it entirely. She curls her back, letting the scrap of fabric drop to the floor.
I can’t help myself. I cup her breasts in my big palms, teasing over the nipples with my thumbs, and she moans in pleasure. “Will we both fit in the tub?” she murmurs, eyeing the tub skeptically.
It’s not a tub made for two, not one of those big Jacuzzi things, but it’s a deep garden tub that I usually fit in, other than my knees, which stick up well above the water line. Tonight, there’s no way around it. We’re both getting in, one way or another.
“You might have to sit in my lap,” I concede, not sounding the least bit disappointed by that option.
Her smile is full of the devil, so I don’t think she minds either.
I pull my sweater over my head, adding it to the pile of clothes at our feet, and her deft fingers are already working the button on my jeans free. I toe my boots off and take over removing my jeans. She places her palm along the thick ridge bulging through the black cotton fabric of my underwear to tent the waistband. “Finally gonna get my hands on this monster,” she purrs.