Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
With titles.
Perhaps I was high on giddiness that was overriding my nerves, but I suddenly felt mischievous. The way he’d phrased himself, the formality of it all, made me want to lighten the tension.
“Before I answer,” I said, and I pushed away the blanket and got on all fours to crawl over to Colt, “can I ask you something?”
He furrowed his brow. “Of course.”
“How many fighter pilots does it take to change a lightbulb?” I kissed his cheek and received a sharp, narrowed-eyed look from him. Behind me, Lucas spluttered a chuckle. I grinned and nuzzled Colt’s jaw. “Just one. He holds the bulb, and the world revolves around him.”
Colt had disbelief written all over him. “What the—”
“Also, who says I’m not ready now?” I giggled.
“You shit.” He grabbed me under my armpits and pushed me back, all while Lucas collapsed into a fit of laughter. My stomach did a somersault, and I joined in on the laughs as my back hit the cushions and Colt landed on top of me. “You thought that was funny, huh?” He planted wet kisses and playful bites all over my face.
“Very funny!” I squirmed to evade his tickles, and I tried fruitlessly to shove him away. Or, at least, end the assault. “Gah! If you don’t stop, I’ll tell more—tickles!—jokes!”
“Oh, look at that, Luke…the kid is threatenin’ me.” Colt dug his fingers into my sides mercilessly.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I was completely breathless. “What’s the difference b-between God and a fighter pilot? Fuck! Ahh! God doesn’t think he’s a pilot!”
“Oh Christ, I can’t,” Lucas wheezed out. “How come I’ve never heard these before, Colt?”
“Because you’re laughin’ so hard that you’re cryin’!” Colt exclaimed, finally stopping the tickles. “You think I’d share this shit with someone I can’t punish?”
I gasped and wiped my eyes.
“And you…” He returned his attention to me and dipped down, rubbing my nose with his. “You wiseass. You can go get a notepad and a pen for all the rules we’re about to give you, and you can start callin’ us Daddy, you delightful little slut boy.”
I beamed and, admittedly, got a little horny. Okay—a lot.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened, and he clenched his jaw. The humor was long gone. “Jesus, that sounds good. Go before I take you.”
* * *
Mondays still sucked, but not as much.
I was in the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes when Rosa arrived, and she gave me a slow once-over before smirking and getting started on breakfast.
“You had a good weekend, mijo,” she sang.
A yawn interrupted my grin. “Yeah. How was yours?”
“Same old. Good.” She grabbed something from the freezer. “I’m surprised Vincent is not here yet.”
I snickered and took a sip of my coffee, or sugared milk with a bit of coffee flavor, as Colt called it.
Vincent had been good, though. He’d texted me twice on Sunday, just to check in, that was all. And by the last text, Colt and Lucas had gone home.
They’d left around nine with the promise that we’d meet up tomorrow for dinner.
Returning my attention to the notepad in front of me, I couldn’t help but smile at everything. Even the boring rules they’d set up for me were reminders that they wanted to be involved in my life. Like, clean my room before bedtime. Boring!
I checked the time and huffed to myself. It was still too early to call Abel on the West Coast.
He was going to be so freaking smug that I might as well get it over with.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of my pajama bottoms, so I retrieved it and saw I had a message from Lucas.
Good morning, sweetheart. I hope you slept well. Colt and I missed having you between us…but that’s not why I’m texting. It turns out I have a work lunch in Georgetown today. Would you like to meet up quickly afterward for ice cream?
Yes! Maybe Mondays didn’t have to suck anymore!
* * *
“Uhh…” I squinted up at Lucas, the sun directly behind him, and grinned sheepishly.
He was equally amused by the difference in our treats. He’d gone with a dark chocolate gelato with crushed pistachios, and I’d ended up with a fucking rainbow of frozen yogurt. Strawberry-flavored, vanilla-flavored, chocolate-flavored, and then the toppings. Granola crumbs, Cap’n Crunch, gummy bears, chocolate chips, two types of sprinkles, and strawberry sauce.
“I couldn’t decide on toppings,” I admitted self-consciously. “I kinda like sprinkles a lot.”
Hey, Lucas had encouraged me to “go nuts.” Which was practically the only topping I hadn’t put on here.
“I think it looks perfect.” He touched my cheek, then gestured to a table in the sun. We were only five or six blocks away from my house, and I felt dumb for having had Vincent drop me off.
We took our seats, and I watched curiously as Lucas took a picture of our desserts.