Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Marleigh’s mouth opened, then closed, before she blurted, “Nope. I don’t cook. Do you?”
“When I have time,” I replied, silently instructing myself to let her go. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own because they drifted down to cup her curvy hips. “I enjoy being in the kitchen, but it’s not as fun to cook for only one person.” Finally, I managed to peel my hands off her and walk to the refrigerator, not that the distance did much good. The room was filled with her scent. Floral and…something that was all her own. It was tantalizing and sexy as fuck.
“That makes sense,” she murmured.
I opened the fridge and leaned down to peer inside. “You weren’t kidding,” I teased when all I saw was a couple of takeout containers, salad dressings, and bottled water.
“I’m a New Yorker,” she quipped, making me smile. “If ordering out were an Olympic sport, we’d sweep the gold every time.”
I closed the refrigerator and tossed her a grin before looking around the kitchen. “Can’t argue with that solid logic.”
“Precisely.”
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “That must mean…” I spotted the drawer I was looking for and laughed when I opened it. “Yup.”
Marleigh’s mouth opened in shock, then she sputtered, “What? How did you? How could you possibly—”
“I’m a New Yorker, too, baby. You think I don’t know how to recognize a takeout drawer?” I lifted the stack of menus and set them on the counter to sift through.
“I don’t know how,” she muttered, her tone disgruntled.
Laughing, I tapped a finger on the tip of her nose and winked. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me around from now on.”
She looked at me quizzically, so I changed the subject. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” I picked up the well-worn menu for a Thai place and waved it.
Marleigh bit her lip, and I could see that she was tempted. Eventually, she sighed, “Okay. But only a little.”
I held out the paper, and she pointed at what she wanted, then I dug my cell phone from my pocket and made the call. When I ended it and set my phone on the counter, I noticed Marleigh staring at me inquisitively.
“What’s on your mind, baby?”
“I always wondered if it was true that pro-athletes eat a lot. That was a ton of food.”
“During the season, I consume a lot of calories, but I usually stick to healthy foods. However, I sometimes indulge in fried goodness like this in the off-season.”
“I’d say you’re lucky to be able to eat so much, but I’m sure I would too if I worked out enough. Which isn’t going to happen. I’ll stick with my daily jogs and a smaller amount of deliciously unhealthy food.”
I laughed and picked her up again, this time cradling her in my arms as I made my way to the living room. The food wouldn’t arrive for at least thirty minutes, so I wanted to get comfortable and spend more time learning about her.
“Why would you worry about that?” I asked, genuinely curious as I headed for the couch and sat down with her in my lap.
“Why do you keep carrying me?” she huffed adorably. “I can walk.”
“I know. I just like carrying you. You’re practically snack-size,” I explained with a wink.
Marleigh rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I am not. You’re a double king size candy, so it just seems like I’m little.”
Images of my girl on her knees, taking my king-sized dick in her mouth and sucking it like a lollipop, filled my head. My cock had softened just a little, but with those naughty pictures swimming before my eyes, I swelled until my shaft pressed against my zipper, aching to be free.
I was a little worried that it might be too much, too fast, so I grudgingly shifted Marleigh to the cushion beside me.
“Tell me why you worry about your weight,” I demanded, going back to my question, my lips curling into a frown. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’d be just as fucking gorgeous no matter what you weighed.”
Marleigh’s cheeks turned pink, but she met my gaze with a sweet smile. “Thank you. But it’s not really about what I weigh. It’s just about being healthy and keeping up my energy. My job has me running around from the moment I arrive to the moment I drag my butt home. I have to keep up, and I’m not going to do that with stimulants or anything else. I love my coffee, but I don’t rely on it to keep me going. So I eat fairly healthy, and when I don’t, I add a little time to my jog.”
Satisfied with her answer, I asked her a few more questions and answered the ones she lobbed at me. Our conversation was easy and relaxed, besides the sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife.