Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Fuck no,” Junior said, lip curled.
“Then I’ll sleep in the bed with Shale,” Barry said.
“That’s an even bigger fuck no,” Junior said, and the fierceness in his voice made my belly feel a little wobbly.
“Then you can sleep in the bed with Shale,” Barry said.
“I’ll drive you home,” Junior said.
“Nuh-uh, Boss man,” Barry said, shaking his head. “You’ve had even more to drink than I have.”
A growling noise escaped Junior at that as he suddenly turned and walked away.
“The bed is very comfortable,” Barry informed me.
I wasn’t surprised.
Everything in this place was nice.
I’d grown up painfully poor. Because of that, I knew the difference between the cheap stuff that used to fill my childhood apartments or trailers, even hotel rooms, from the good stuff.
Junior’s place was full of the good stuff.
Real wood tables, luxurious, supple leather couches. A giant TV.
The whole place was massive, and kind of like a loft, with the bedroom separated from the main space with an L-shaped wall, blocking it from view, but not closing it off completely.
The bathroom was situated under the loft that seemed to serve as a storage space.
Junior didn’t have a lot of personal things. The closest thing to decor he owned was several large houseplants. He also had several work stations, including a standing desk situation, and a normal desk setup. And I was pretty sure the coffee table opened up like I’d seen in a catalog once, so you could use it as a laptop stand.
A man like Junior seemed to have the best of everything.
The bed was no exception.
“I washed the sheets too,” Barry declared with an encouraging nod. “And there are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom.”
“Oh, great, thanks,” I said, then made my way toward said bathroom, wondering where Junior had gotten to.
Apparently, the loft.
I made my way into the bathroom, taking a moment to myself, and not at all becoming insanely jealous of his fancy-ass bathroom.
He didn’t have a tub. Which, I guess, made sense. I didn’t know many men who took baths. But he had one of those giant showers that had walls with black separators which resembled the windows in the rest of his loft. It had several different shower heads sticking out from the walls and down from above.
The space was massive, too.
In my bathroom, if I wanted to blow dry my hair, something that required me raising my arms, I had to open the door to the living room, or I’d ram my elbow into the door.
But his vanity was like a solid five feet from the door with tons of storage underneath, and a big mirror.
He also had a luxury I’d never had in my entire life.
A linen closet.
There was a knock at the door that had me letting out a little squeak of surprise.
“It’s me,” Junior called. “Got a shirt for you to wear,” he added.
“Oh, great, thanks,” I said, opening the door to take it from him.
“I don’t want you to go home until we talk,” he said.
“I don’t want to go home either,” I admitted, too tired to pretend things weren’t royally fucked up.
“I’ll sleep up in the loft,” he said.
“What? On the floor?” I asked, brows pinching.
“It’s fine.”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both adults. We can share a bed,” I said, shaking my head.
“Yeah?” he asked, brow quirking up. “You sure?”
Absolutely not.
Being in a bed close to him with my body’s clear reaction to him?
Terrible idea.
“Yeah.”
And then it was done.
I went ahead and took a shower, trying to chase the chill that had been clinging to me all day from not sleeping the night before.
Then I climbed into his shirt, that fit me like a dress, and made my way out.
The lights were already lowered, and Barry had the couch all made up, and was watching Friends reruns on the TV with the blankets pulled up to his nose.
I moved along the long wall of the bedroom space, then turned the corner to find Junior standing beside the bed in a pair of blue sleep pants… and nothing else.
I repeat… nothing else.
I’d kind of imagined he would be fit under his clothes. Something about the width of his shoulders and his nice, round ass suggested he moved his body and occasionally picked up and put down heavy items.
But I hadn’t been prepared for the corded ropes of his arms, for the breadth of his chest, and the indents of his abdominal muscles.
A little whimpering sound escaped me, and I was thankful I was just far enough away for him not to hear.
“This bed is massive,” I said, watching his head lift to find me there in nothing but his gray tee.
“California King,” he said. “I needed the extra legroom,” he added as he turned toward the bed. “What the fuck?” he mumbled as I made my way around the bed and saw him plucking a mint off of his pillow.