Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
My arms were around her after, neither of us in a rush to separate as we struggled to calm our ragged breathing.
“I think that was better than stress cleaning,” she said, breaking the silence, a cute as fuck little smile toying with her lips as she said it.
“Baby, any time you need stress relief, you are free to hop on my cock,” I said, getting a surprised, snorting laugh out of her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she decided, sliding off of me as she reached to yank her tank into place, then wiggling her panties and shorts back up.
“I’m serious as fuck about that, actually,” I said, getting up off the floor to toss the condom, then tuck my cock away.
Finished, I leaned against the sink and watched her start cleaning again.
“I’m one call, text, or carrier pigeon away when you need a good, solid fucking,” I told her, watching her cheeks go pink. “I thought your stress was relieved,” I commented as she continued to clean.
“It was, but I can’t leave the floor half-cleaned,” she said, rolling her eyes at me like I was being ridiculous.
“I brought hummus wraps,” I told her.
We’d been shoveling away a lot of crap. And I knew whatever Eddie was going to make was going to be heavy. So I’d opted to balance that out with something lighter for lunch.
There’d been a moment in the car that I’d heard an old, familiar voice in my mind. Whispering shit about how long it had been since I’d hit the gym, about how long walks and good sex sessions weren’t going to cut it, that I was going to lose definition. All that old shit that used to occupy my mind constantly.
I actually didn’t even notice how absent that voice had been, how quiet my mind had become, until I heard it start jabbering away again.
The difference was, now, that I didn’t immediately believe it, didn’t buy into it, didn’t act accordingly.
This time, I heard how ugly it was, how toxic.
I wasn’t going to undo years of work on my body by a lax week or so.
And even if I did start to lose a little definition, if I put on some weight, who the fuck cared? Who was judging me?
Not Siana.
Who’d confessed once to having a crush on a plus-sized male celebrity because she thought he probably gave great hugs.
She wasn’t shallow.
And that gave me an interesting amount of perspective about my own body image.
Because imagining that she was judging my body would also mean that I was judging hers. And nothing could be further from the truth.
“I’m starving,” she admitted as she finally tossed the rag into the bucket and stood, still looking freshly-fucked and flushed.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said, surprising even myself with the emotion behind those words.
But she was.
Both inside and out.
“I’m dirty and sweaty,” she declared, pushing her glasses back up her nose with her upper arm.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head. “Still beautiful.”
Her gaze skittered away.
Embarrassed?
Disbelieving?
Either way, I didn’t like it.
Pushing away from the counter, I stalked over toward her, snagging her chin, and lifting it until she had no choice but to look up at me.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, baby,” I said, voice soft.
“Okay,” she said.
“Nope. Still don’t believe it, do you?” I asked, ducking my chin to my chest to keep holding her gaze when she tried to move it away. “You’re,” I said, pressing a kiss to one side of her lips,” beautiful,” I said, kissing the other side. “Got it?” I asked, pressing my lips to hers hard, feeling the smile there before she submitted to the kiss, her hands grabbing my arms as she swayed into me.
Only then did I break away, waiting for her lashes to flutter open.
“Is that settled now?” I asked.
I watched as the warmth spread from her smile to her eyes before she gave me a nod.
“Good. Now wash your hands, and I’ll set out the food,” I said. “You have approximately eighteen outfit changes to go through.”
“How do you know that?” she asked as she washed up.
“Because I have sisters,” I reminded her. “Anytime they had something to do, their bedroom looked like a hurricane tore through a women’s department store.”
“Well, luckily, I probably only have eighteen outfits to choose from. And fewer dresses, obviously,” she told me as she joined me at the table.
“Any chance you packed a bathing suit last time we went to your place?”
“Oh, that’s so not going to happen,” she said, shaking her head as she unwrapped her food, and took a bite.
That level of self-assurance would come, I told myself as we ate, talking mostly about the fence I was going to build for Frida. Both of us just… silently agreeing that she and Frida weren’t going anywhere, that they would be around for Frida to enjoy going outside without a leash for a change.