Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to.” He pulled onto the street. “Did you eat?”
“No.”
“You need to eat. It’s important. We’ll go home. You can make breakfast, and we’ll talk.”
Home… Did he mean that because he planned to move me in with him? I trembled with need at the thought, but what I said was, “Does that mean you didn’t eat? It’s important to eat.”
I was sure it was the wrong thing to say, and silently chastised myself, so I was surprised by the sound of laughter coming from Aidan. It pushed through his lips, almost as if he had been shocked about it too. “I knew you would be a brat. Mind your manners, though.”
“But isn’t that what this is about? You take care of me, and I take care of you too? So if you’re reminding me that I need to eat, I should be doing the same for you.”
Aidan didn’t answer for a moment. I wondered if he was already regretting this, whatever this was. What felt like an eternity later, he finally spoke. “That depends on a few things. First, if we go through with this, and second, the nature of what we do. There are no rules we have to follow; we’ll do what’s right for us. And I haven’t decided what that is yet—or what I want.”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he liked hearing me say that or because he didn’t.
We were quiet the rest of the drive to his house. The second we pulled up to it, I was reminded how out of my element I was, that I didn’t belong there. It was a beautiful home, this creamish color, with palm trees along with other trees surrounding it.
Aidan killed the engine and got out, and I took a deep breath, forcing my limbs to work, and did the same. He invited me here. It doesn’t matter if I belong or not.
I followed him to the front doors. They were french, a dark brown with frosted glass in the center so you couldn’t see inside. Aidan unlocked the door, then tossed the keys into a bowl on the table in the entryway.
“Should I take off my shoes?” I asked.
“It’s fine. Whatever you want.”
“Can I take off your shoes?”
His eyes flared with something—desire, I hoped—but he shook his head. “Not now. Let’s go have breakfast.” He began to walk down the hallway, and I followed as he continued. “There are eggs, ham, peppers, and onions in the fridge. Can you make omelets?”
I rolled my eyes, and he clicked his tongue as if to chastise me. “None of that. Just answer the question.”
“Yes, I can make omelets.” What did he think I was? I might have been young and uneducated, but I sure as shit knew how to make breakfast.
It took me a moment to realize we had stopped walking. Aidan nodded toward the kitchen and said, “Come.”
And I went…eagerly and obediently, silently hoping he would want me to stay.
CHAPTER SIX
Aidan
I still wasn’t sure what in the hell I was thinking. I hadn’t been sure I would go through with it until I found myself getting into my car and going to get him. Hell, maybe I still hadn’t known until he’d come out with his friend and I’d seen the hunger in him…and the relief. Not because I’d picked him up rather than have him take the bus, but because I hadn’t changed my mind.
I was being a fool, but I was fairly certain I was going to continue being a fool where Finley was concerned. He’d touched something inside me that ignited my need to protect him.
“Do you have your high school diploma?” I asked as Finley pulled items from the fridge. From where I sat at the table, I saw his body tense up. Not everyone would have noticed, but it was my responsibility to look for signs and read him.
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“It matters because I want to know. I’ll expect you to answer my questions, unless they’re a hard limit for you. Is this?” When he didn’t immediately reply, I added, “There is no shame to your answer. It’s important that I get to know you.”
Finley set the food on the counter and looked around for a cutting board, knife, and bowls. I could have told him where they were, but I didn’t. He would want to do this on his own, and I intended to let him.
“No,” he finally replied. “I don’t. And I don’t care because how is it going to help me with this? With what I want?”
Rather than setting him straight, I nodded. “And no family?”
“None.” Finley washed the peppers and began cutting them.
“And you’ve never done this? Submitted to a man? Or been a houseboy—if that’s what you’re looking for?”