Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, already boiling around spaghetti noodles, and she gives it a stir. Beside it, another pot bubbling with a tangy-smelling red sauce. The light on in the oven showcases a pan of garlic bread, and my stomach growls with anticipation.
“That had to have been hard.” The soft tone of my voice has her eyes coming to me in question. “A baby all on your own. Up every few hours to care for her with no help.”
Anna smiles, giving a slight shrug. “While I would love to be one of those martyr mothers who will one day hang it over Avery’s head how much I sacrificed for her, I have to tell you… she’s a pretty easy baby. Yes, she cries when she’s hungry, so yes, I have to wake up and feed her. But she goes right back to sleep, and she’s really a happy kid. Doesn’t cry a lot other than if she’s hungry or she has poop in her diaper.”
It makes me glad to hear it, so I can’t help but say, “I’ve heard when you have a really easy baby, it means they’ll be hellions in their teens.”
“God, I hope not.” When Anna laughs, I join her. A reminder of how incredibly easy it is to fall into comfortable conversation with her, despite the fact we have some heavy things hanging over us. That says something.
Or maybe it doesn’t since Anna sets down the wooden spoon she’d been stirring the pasta with, then turns the stove off. She shifts to face me, hands on hips, and I’m immediately on guard by her uneasy expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She glances away, face turning red as she shakes her head. “It’s stupid.”
“I promise it’s not,” I assure her, making a firm mental note not to laugh, no matter what she says.
Anna’s head tips up, and she looks miserable. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about the kiss, okay? It almost knocked me over—”
“Which one?” I interrupt. “There were two instances.”
“The one in the gym today, but the first one was awesome, too.”
“Got it,” I reply with a nod, up to speed on things.
“I know we need to talk about it… about us. About whatever the heck this is—about what it means and how to be comfortable with it. Which is why I thought making you dinner and having a rational discussion would be the way to go. So, I made spaghetti, which seemed like a good idea because it’s easy and not over-involved, if you know what I mean. Plus, I didn’t really have time to go shopping after work, and I had these ingredients—”
“Anna,” I interrupt again, since she’s rambling from nerves and refusing to get to the point.
She takes a deep breath, blushing so deeply I bet her cheeks are warm to the touch. “It’s just… I want you to kiss me again. I want that more than I want to talk to you right now, and I’m afraid if we talk first while eating, the kiss won’t be that great because it will be too planned. Plus, I cook with a lot of garlic, so now I’m afraid it’s going to be a horrible kiss after the spaghetti, but I want it to be perfect, you know?”
Despite all my misgivings about this—no matter the guilt I carry and regardless of the fact I don’t believe I deserve her—it’s in this moment, listening to her insecurities about a garlicky kiss, that I fall just a little bit in love with Anna Tate.
It’s also when I decide we can talk later, because another kiss really can’t wait… for her own peace of mind.
Setting my beer bottle down, I reach out and circle an arm around her waist. It lets me easily reel her into me. Her eyes flash with surprise, joy, then heat. Each emotion hits me square in the gut, especially knowing I can evoke that many in such a short time.
My other hand goes to her cheek, holding it there before sliding my fingers to the back of her head. I dip my head, locking my eyes to hers. She stares back with such trust I know I have to do right by her.
“We’ll eat and talk later, okay?”
She nods, licks her lower lip, and exhales as her hands come to my chest. “Okay.”
My mouth descends on hers. No one can call this kiss sweet or tender. There’s no hesitation, no wondering if I’m doing the right thing.
I claim Anna’s mouth as my very own, not willing to share it with another soul. As good as she tastes, I’m pretty sure I’m never going to give her up. Her moan is deep and guttural, rumbling across my tongue, and my body instantly reacts.
Skin tightening, blood hammering through my veins, and cock thickening. I haven’t had a woman in almost six goddamn months, yet not sure any I’ve ever had before this kiss with Anna amounted to much.