Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
And that was how we spent the afternoon.
When everyone started filing in, asking about dinner, she was all too happy to help me prep some food, then help me stir and plate it all.
Later, we took turns getting ready, then climbed into bed with her cheesy fall romance movies, and fell asleep together.
It was the best day of my fucking life.
And I had no idea what to do about that.
CHAPTER TEN
Everleigh
The sexual frustration was making me feel like I was on edge every single moment of the day. But never quite as strong as in the bed at night. Where it felt like desire was pinging off every nerve ending, like my skin was on fire, and my heart was hammering, and my sex was aching.
It was so overwhelming.
Especially when I woke up against his back. Even, one night, with my arm around him, and my leg cocked up over his hip.
Did that mean that my leg, lower back, and hip were aching like crazy because he was so much higher off the bed than me? Absolutely. But did I stay there a little longer? Yep.
Before forcing myself to roll to the other side of the bed and try to reason with my body.
Eventually, Detroit climbed out of bed, disappearing, and coming back fifteen minutes later.
Wearing a towel.
Likely thinking I was still asleep.
Did I mention that this was, you know, a normal towel? Like, the same ones that were a little tight around my chest. Which meant it was positively straining against his ass. His very high, round, well-toned ass. And parted on his thigh. His thick, trunk-like thigh.
Not a small gap, either, I have to add.
I mean, it was a real slit.
Like I was pretty sure if he shifted just right, the gap would reveal, you know, all his secrets.
His big, thick, tempting secret.
Oh, God.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I mean, sure, I appreciated an attractive man.
But I never really had a physical reaction to a man I wasn’t seeing. It was just a sort of detached appreciation. Like looking at a painting or something like that.
This, though, this was a whole body sort of reaction.
Like I was just barely able to keep myself from climbing off the bed, walking over to him, grabbing that towel, yanking it off, then lowering down in front of him, and sucking him into my mouth.
Like I wanted to do it so badly it hurt.
He finished fishing around for his clothes then, though, and turned his back on me to yank his boxer briefs up his legs.
I got a split second view of his bare ass before it was covered by a deep blue material that somehow almost made his butt look just as good as it did bare.
He turned again, and, well, I suddenly wanted to figure out who invented boxer briefs and their perfectly clingy material and thank them for their service to womankind.
Then his pants were on and his shirt as well, and it was time for me to stop pretending to be asleep.
“Morning,” I said as I moved across the room, heading toward the bathroom with a promise to my poor, aching body that I would do something that I just rarely did.
Take a bath and… satisfy the ache between my legs.
I mean, it wasn’t that I never masturbated. But it just always kind of felt only partially satisfying. I couldn’t make that make sense. An orgasm was an orgasm. It just didn’t satisfy the same way when I was alone, I guess.
Any relief, though, would be preferable to this never-ending ache inside.
So I scrubbed the tub.
Then I filled it, dropped in some soap, and climbed inside.
I had just started to, you know, get things going, when the door suddenly flew open.
I saw his arm shoot inward toward the counter, reaching for the phone I’d noticed then disregarded in my need for a release, that he’d likely left when he’d showered before me.
The bathrooms in the house weren’t private. In general, people used the one across from their bedrooms. But I’d noticed that some people left doors open afterward, others cracked, and others still closed the doors.
He wouldn’t have thought anything about opening a closed door.
And I, accustomed to living alone, didn’t always remember to lock the door.
It was all just… happenstance.
The thing was, as soon as his hand closed over his phone, I must have jolted. Because the water made a little splashing noise. It drew his focus away from the counter and toward the tub. Where I was under the water with my hand between my thighs.
The soap had settled toward the sides of the tub. So he wasn’t… missing anything.
There was a strange sound that escaped him then. Something low and almost primal. The look on his face was molten as well.
But he seemed to snap out of it, shaking his head.