Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“You know, I do really miss Doritos,” Dane muses thoughtfully. He gives me a sly glance. “Maybe the next time you come over, you could bring some of those. Nacho not Cool Ranch, if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”
I have to clamp my lips together so my bite of burger doesn’t fall out on my plate. He wants to see me again?
And bring Doritos, of all things? I smile while rolling my eyes.
“Oh, um, yeah, I can do that,” I guffaw. With a sassy smile, I wolf down my burger. I don’t want Dane to think I don’t like his cooking after all.
The man looks pleased.
“Cool.” Dane finishes his food and clears his plate. Without asking, he takes mine too and rinses both in the sink. My face is still hot and flushed from his casual comment. I don’t get it – when we first met, he did everything in his power to push me away. But now he’s asking me to bring him snack foods from the outside world? It’s just too funny.
Dane puts the rinsed plates on a small rack and turns out the kitchen light. He jerks his head to the side, indicating that he wants me to follow him into the living room. I get to my feet and pad slowly behind him. He settles down on the couch.
Dane pats the leather next to him. “Emma, come sit,” he commands in a low voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I nod. I can’t disobey him – it’s like everything he says is God’s word. Taking a deep breath, I settle down next to him on the couch. I don’t know what he has in mind. His blue eyes are always so intense that I have trouble reading them.
To my surprise, Dane puts his arm around my shoulders. My head falls against his chest until I find that perfect hollow just below his collarbone that feels like it was made for me. When I feel Dane’s rough fingers stroking my hair, a shudder of pleasure runs down my spine and my pussy tingles. Any moment now, I know he’s going to put his mouth to mine and kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He keeps stroking my hair, brushing his fingertips from the top of my scalp to the nape of my neck. It feels so good that I close my eyes and curl closer to him. He smells like wood smoke and sweat, but in a clean way, and the scent is as intoxicating as a big glass of wine. Whenever Dane and I are apart, I miss his scent most of all.
“That feels so good,” I murmur sleepily. I put an arm around Dane’s muscular chest and pull myself closer, throwing one of my legs over his lap. He puts his free hand on my thigh and kneads the skin gently. I’m surprised – I’d expected him to attack me with wild lust by now.
But somehow, this snuggling feels almost more intimate than sex. I can feel my body growing weightless with exhaustion and I don’t even realize it when I drift off in Dane’s arms.
“Emma, wake up.”
“Huh?” My mind is foggy and I’m so comfortable – I don’t want to move from this warm, safe nest. I’m wrapped up in blankets but when I reach for Dane, the other side of the bed is empty. My eyes flash open and I see the alpha standing by the side of the bed. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows and my limbs are stiff.
Looking down, I realize that I must have fallen asleep in my clothes.
“Shit,” I mutter as I sit up and stretch. “What time is it?”
“It’s after eleven-thirty,” Dane says. His voice is low and humorless but a smirk stretches across his face. “You must have been really tired.”
“I was in a food coma,” I joke as I roll over and climb out of bed. My clothes are rumpled and my mouth tastes horrible. Covering my lips with both hands, I stumble into the bathroom and rinse my mouth out with water. I splash some on my face, too. My skin is puffy and I know my hair looks terrible, but thankfully Dane doesn’t have a mirror.
When I get back to the bedroom, it’s empty. Dane has pulled the blankets up and I yawn again as I walk into the living room. There’s a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen and I moan softly as I realize Dane’s making bacon and eggs.
I walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. The wood is smooth and polished, and I like to think of Dane building this table himself. His hands are so scarred and calloused that I know it must have taken a huge effort.
Dane slides a plate in front of me heaped with bacon and fried eggs. The yolks are runny and perfect, and I break a piece of bacon in half to dip in the creamy yellow goodness.