Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
And because of me, he wasn’t going to be home with his loved ones for it.
I had to get Aurelio on the side and ask him when August’s birthday was. Then maybe get Aurelio to sneak me in some supplies, so I could make him a cake.
It was the least I could do.
Decision made, I curled back up under my covers, just listening to the soothing sound of his voice as he talked and cleaned up the kitchen.
“You’re not getting out of me sharing the bed tonight,” he informed me, making my eyes slit open.
“You can have it. I can’t move. I’m too comfy,” I told him.
“Nah. Want you next to me, sugar tits,” he said, scooping his arms under me, then lifting me up before I got a chance to object to that pet name.
He carried me into the bedroom, placing me on the bed, then standing off of the foot as he peeled off layers of clothes until he was in nothing but his underwear as he came to the bed.
We didn’t have sex.
But once he was settled, he reached for me, pulling me to his side.
I went ahead and let myself shift upward to rest my head on his chest, sharing his warmth, and listening to his comforting heartbeat as his fingers sifted through my hair, then up and down my spine.
It seemed impossible, especially after such a rough day, but it was the best night of my life.
And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that information.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
August
We got three perfect days after that.
Which sounded crazy, with all the shit going on.
But we were stuck in a holding pattern since Aurelio and I both didn’t have a car, and we couldn’t exactly hire car services to do shady shit with us. Talk about a fucking trail leading right back to us.
So we all collectively decided just to… hunker down for a few days.
Aurelio still came by every morning with breakfast, but then headed out for the rest of the day. Likely hitting the hotel gym, then catching up with his business via his phone.
As for Traveler and I, well, we just continued the peace and comfort we’d been having since I’d cooked for her.
Did we still disagree on shit? Yeah. Of course. But the arguments didn’t have much heat anymore. And the only reason I even leaned into them was because the sex afterward was fucking top-notch.
We had an argument over recycling—you know, since I claimed that most of that shit ended up in the landfill anyway, and she claimed that it would mostly get recycled if people recycled properly—that led to some fast and hard sex up against the windows overlooking the street that had her coming four times from the impression of being seen even though the windows had mirrored film.
We’d also gotten into it over my soap bar compared to her soap bar that ended in slippery shower sex where I was genuinely worried we might break the glass enclosure we’d been going at it so hard.
In between sex, there were meals shared full of conversation, movies, and even a trip to the hotel pool to swim laps because she was restless.
Did she tell me about the benefits of salt pools versus chemical ones? She sure did. But I had to admit that I thought it was sexy both how informed she was and how much she cared.
I never cared about anything—save for my family—the way she cared about everything.
I had to admit that I wasn’t surprised by my attraction to her heart and brain.
In school, while the other guys were lusting after the cheerleaders, I’d always had a thing for the chicks who were focused on their GPA, their connections, their futures, the girls with their extracurriculars and ‘causes’ who were always trying to get the rest of us to stand up for something.
Maybe because I didn’t have that kind of passion for something, I was drawn to those who did.
I didn’t have the energy to care so much all the time, but Traveler did. And I liked being close to that. And, to an extent, I liked learning about the shit she cared about. I mean, I started to glaze over a bit when she started talking about every ingredient in the cleaners the hotel used, but, hey, she was pretty as fuck when she was talking about something she knew a lot about.
“What’s that look for?” she asked as she walked into the living room after showering, wearing a tee, but not bothering with a bra or pants.
She seemed to have an aversion to pants as a whole.
Which I was fully supportive of.
Leaning forward, I put my coffee cup on the table.
“Get over here,” I demanded, watching her eyes heat at my tone as she put a little extra shimmy in her walk as she approached, stopping only when she was standing between my spread legs.