Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“You got end tables!”
“I did. They need lamps. And I need… the… window… blankets…”
“Curtains,” I said, smiling over at him. “You mean curtains.”
“Yeah, that’s them,” he said, shaking his head at himself.
“How about I take you upstairs to clean you up before I give you the rest of the tour?”
“Okay,” I agreed as he led me up the steps.
From the looks of things as we passed, the upstairs featured four bedrooms and a full hallway bathroom.
And then, of course, the primary room Santo led me into.
I honestly would have been impressed if he had a headboard and a full bedding set.
I’d been underestimating him, though.
His bedroom was finished in a way that none of the lower-level rooms were. It was dominated by a king-size bed with a rich dark wood head and footboard, with some sort of backlighting behind it that made it glow. The bed was neatly made and featured extra pillows, a thick, dark gray linen duvet, and even an extra accent blanket at the foot.
There were nightstands with brass lamps and dark shades.
Across from the bed was a dresser with another framed TV attached to the wall above it.
Everything about the room was deep and sexy, just begging you to slip out of your clothes and get lost in someone for hours.
“This is really nice,” I told him, meaning it. “If you did this, I have all the faith in you finishing the rest of the house.”
“I can’t take all the credit; my cousin Smush circled it in a magazine and left it on the kitchen counter.”
“Smush?” I asked as Santo led me into the bathroom that featured a mix of black and white marble, a floating sink cabinet, a soaking tub, and a shower niche that could comfortably fit four.
“Don’t ever tell her you heard me call her that,” he said, giving me a grave look as he closed the toilet seat and pressed me down onto it.
“Is it a nickname she hates?”
“Hates might be an understatement. When Sofia was a baby, she was, well, extremely pudgy. And her mom used to say she was such a little smush. It… stuck. Much to Sofia’s chagrin.”
“How pudgy was she?”
“Remember that marshmallow guy from Ghostbusters?”
There was no stopping the little laugh that escaped me as Santo drew a plastic container full of medical supplies.
“So, you’re close with Sofia?” I asked, not letting myself think of her as the nickname that made her so uncomfortable. It had taken me a long time to accept and love my body after some kids in school had some nasty things to tease me about. I didn’t want to contribute to any self-esteem issues Sofia might be dealing with.
“Yeah, all the cousins are tight. But she also works for me.”
“How?” I watched as Santo wet some gauze with a little pink tube of what I imagined was wound wash or saline.
“Smush started a business where she runs errands for the guys in the family. Makes sure we never run out of food or supplies, picks up dry cleaning, that sort of thing. She’s moved beyond just the family now, but she still works for a bunch of us.”
“That’s a neat little business model. She must be very good at organization and inventory.”
“She knows I’m almost out of toothpaste before I do,” Santo said. “Okay. Tell me if I’m hurting you too much,” he said as he tilted my chin up. “But fair warning: it isn’t going to be pleasant.”
With that, he started to dab at the dried blood on my upper lip and under my nose. The second the gauze touched my nostrils, though, the pain coursed through my nose and icepicked into my brain.
“I know, baby. I’m trying to be quick.”
To his credit, he had very skilled—and quick—hands. By the time he was done with my nose, though, my eyes had started to water again.
“That’s the worst of it.” He tossed the bloody gauze into the trash, then went to wet some more. “This part is just clean-up.”
With that, he wiped under my jaw, my neck, and—lastly—my chest.
It was completely inappropriate, given the situation, but I felt a small sizzle of desire sparking through my system.
It was over before I could really enjoy the sensations, though, and then Santo was moving on to clean my skinned and bloody palms.
“Do you want to get it over with and tell me about it now, or wait until later?”
I wanted to purge it, get it out, give it to him. Then, maybe, I could stop thinking so much about it myself.
“I stayed late to buff the floors.” Looking down, I watched the top of his head as I spoke, trying to ignore the bite of pain in my hands as he picked little bits of dirt and who-knew-what out of the cuts there. “I’d just finished the bathroom and went back to my office to fix my makeup and grab my purse. I was heading over here.