Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I told you why,” I reminded him.
“Seems like you two sorted that out, though,” he said, grabbing a beer, and passing it to me. “To the end of your years-long celibacy,” he toasted.
“For fuck’s sake. It hasn’t been that long.”
But he was already walking away. Likely to declare to all the others that I’d finally gotten laid.
The thing was, I wasn’t even mad about it.
Because as much as my mind was still conflicted as fuck about the whole situation, my heart and body didn’t have any sort of reservations.
It made no goddamn sense, but it almost felt like I’d been waiting to be with her like that my whole damn life.
Even though I could say with a lot of certainty that I’d never had thoughts and feelings about her like that before.
Maybe that was just how it felt when a fuck wasn’t just about a fuck, when it was about feelings and souls and all that sticky shit I’d been avoiding for so long.
All I knew was I fell into bed without showering, liking the scent of her all over me. And I didn’t drift off like I usually would. I lay there, staring into the darkness, replaying the whole evening.
The conversation.
The tension.
The feel of her soft skin.
The taste of her.
The sound of her sighs, her whimpers, her moans, her demands.
The way her lips wrapped around my cock, how she’d ridden me, how her pupils had blown wide when I’d talked to her. Like she was high on me.
Fuck, I knew that feeling too well.
And I slept restlessly, eager for the next fix.
I woke up unrested, but ready to go, taking a shower, making sure I had some more condoms in my wallet, then driving toward her neighborhood, having to park by her apartment, then walk several blocks back to pick up coffee for us.
By the time I knocked, it was only fifteen to ten, but I could hear her feet rushing down the steps anyway, then the slide of the locks.
She yanked open the door to reveal her in nothing but a lilac silk robe that was doing nothing to hide the curves of her perfect body.
“Did I wake you?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, giving me a sweet smile. “I just got out of the shower,” she explained, waving down at herself.
Just out of the shower, but still her signature scent was clinging to her.
Body wash? Lotion?
All I knew was it clung to every inch of her skin. And this fresh, fuck, it was overwhelming in the best way.
“Brought coffee, as promised,” I said, holding up the cups, and she reached for the one that was stretched toward her like a lifeline, pulling it up to her face, and taking a deep breath.
I’m not proud to admit that the little moan she let out went right to my dick.
And her turning her back on me and making her way up the stairs, that perfect round ass moving just under the silky material of her robe, wasn’t helping at all either.
“If you hoped we’d be on the road at ten on the dot, you made a date with the wrong woman,” she told me with a smile over her shoulder. “I have at least ten minutes of makeup and twenty of hemming and hawing an outfit ahead of me.”
“I don’t mind waiting on you,” I told her. I would happily spend the rest of my life waiting on her. “But I gotta admit I like this look.”
“You want me to wear my silk robe to the bank?” she asked, lips twitching. “Commando underneath?” she added, knowing damn well what she was doing. “The scandal,” she added.
“I meant the fresh face,” I told her. “But I like the robe too,” I added, letting my gaze linger on where the air conditioning had her nipples pressing out against the material.
“Yeah?” she asked, head tipped to the side, catching me staring at her tits.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Hmm,” she said, starting to walk toward the closet room of hers. Walking me like a goddamn dog, because I was helpless but to follow her.
I didn’t know what I’d been anticipating, but she actually had it set up almost like a store.
There was a massive framed mirror leaned against one wall with two long garment racks lined up to each side, clothes both hung neatly and hastily tossed over the top or in a pile on a chair shoved in a corner.
“Have a seat,” she invited, waving toward the wall across from the clothes and mirror, where a gray convertible sofa was near the wall, the back down so it was in the bed position. “Clay refused to sleep on the couch on the rare occasion that he crashed here,” she explained, taking another greedy sip of her coffee as she browsed through her racks of clothing.
“Shorts this time,” I demanded, getting a knowing smirk shot at me over her shoulder.