Alone with You Read Online Aly Martinez

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
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“You have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now?” he growled, his eyes scanning the entire length of my body.

I arched an eyebrow. I was dressed in an oversized T-shirt—one I’d bought online thinking it was a crop top—that covered most of my jogging shorts. My hair was in a messy bun, and I was fairly certain I’d forgotten to remove my makeup the night before. There was no chance in hell that the way I looked could be classified as anything other than homeless, but that didn’t stop me from asking, “Could you elaborate on that for me?”

He chuckled, moving behind me to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling my back flush with his chest.

His lips on my neck sent a tingle down my spine, the vibration of his low groan shooting straight to my core. His hands found the hem of my shirt before he skimmed his fingers along my ribs. “I haven’t caught a case of amnesia since last night, baby. I know exactly what you’re hiding under that shirt. Any fucking hotter and this whole place would spontaneously combust.”

As he continued to trail kisses along the column of my throat, I arched my lower back, pressing my ass into his groin.

“Mmmm…” I moaned. “You’re a tease. I have way too much to do for you to get me all worked up right now.”

He spun me so that my breasts pillowed against him. “I didn’t start that. If anyone’s a tease, it’s you.”

I grinned, looping my arms around his waist as I rolled my hips. As I tipped my head back, my tongue darted out to wet my lips. “I would never tease you.”

His eyes zeroed in on my mouth. “Yes. Yes, you would. And you’d enjoy the hell out of doing it too.”

I laughed and pushed to my toes, giving him a quick peck on the lips before wriggling from his grasp. Chances were, another minute of our back-and-forth while wrapped in his arms and hours of my workday would be lost forever.

I walked to the bar, looked at the stack of papers, and sighed.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“The better question would be: what is it not? Applications, tax forms, sample menus, schedules, vendor lists…” I grabbed the single sheet of notebook paper and waved it toward him. “And let’s not forget, Lucille’s time-off requests.”

“Place isn’t even open and she’s already putting in requests?”

I looked at her scribbled handwriting and nodded. “Yep. She needs to make sure I haven’t forgotten about her standing hair appointments on the second Tuesday of each month.”

He laughed. “Sounds about right. Hey, that reminds me. I called the guy about the blinds. They assured me the delivery would be here before ten this morning.”

“Thank you! That was on my list of things to follow up with.” I dug through the papers until I found the legal pad that held my never-ending to-do list. Making a show of it, I scribbled out the word blinds and beamed at him. “One down, twenty thousand to go.”

He took the pad from my hands and scanned it. “Assemble barstools. I’ll get to work on those if there’s nothing else you want me to do?” He waggled his eyebrows and leaned in so that his mouth was at my ear. “Like, say, in the office?”

A jolt of desire ran through me. The offer was more than tempting, but I fought the urge to say screw it and drag him to the back.

“Later,” I whispered. “I promise.”

With a wink, Truett dropped the pad of paper on the counter and set to work locating the boxes of stools.

For the next hour, I placed orders with beverage vendors and followed up with emails to local farms I’d reached out to while Truett assembled barstools in record time. We worked in a comfortable silence, Truett dropping a sweet kiss on my head with every stool he completed.

When a knock at the door sounded, I pushed to my feet and scurried over, noting that it was already ten thirty and the blinds were late. But at this rate, I was just thankful they’d arrived today.

“Hey!” I said to the man standing on the other side of the door. He was dressed in khaki pants and a button-down with a tie—not exactly what I expected for someone about to do manual labor. But I didn’t care if he’d been in boxer shorts as long as it meant the newspaper was finally coming down.

“Gwendolyn Weaver?” he asked.

I smiled and nodded. “That’s me.”

He shoved a handful of papers in my direction. “You’ve been served.”

“I’ve been what?” I asked as I took the papers from his outstretched hand.

“Have a nice day.” The man spun on his heel, leaving me standing dumbfounded in the doorway.

“Blind people finally here?” Truett asked as he came to a stop behind me, peering down the street. “Where’d they go?”


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