Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I studied them.
Except for the hint of the white underwear I could see stuffed down into the inside of her pants, everything was dark.
“Yes,” I answered. “What does that matter?”
She snorted. “Throw them in the wash. Do you have any dark clothes in your hamper?”
“Yeah,” I answered again.
“Throw those in until you reach the halfway point,” she ordered.
I did, picking out the cleanest ones so that they wouldn’t get hers dirty.
Once I reached the halfway point, I said, “Done.”
“Okay, from there, press the power button, pour two tablespoons of detergent in the little hopper thing, then close the door.” She paused as she listened to me do it. “Now press start.”
I did.
“Done,” I crowed. “What do I need to do next?”
“You’ll need to move it over to the dryer once it’s finished. Just press power start once you have it all in there,” she explained.
I grinned. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you, too.” She hung up.
“Did you just have to call your mom to help you do laundry?”
Luce’s teasing voice sounded behind me.
I grinned and shrugged. “Yeah.”
I turned around and about lost my tongue as it rolled out of my mouth at the sight of her bare legs. She looked good in my t-shirt.
She would look even better with it off. But I wasn’t allowed to go there.
“You’re so spoiled.” She shook her head. “Even Braxton did his own laundry.”
“That’s because Braxton is a douche canoe and he was mean to my mom and didn’t appreciate her,” I countered. “And, from what I understand, he pissed you off, too. And then you refused to do his laundry.”
She nodded her head. “Within the first two months of our marriage, he started doing his own laundry. Actually, he did his own everything. His dishes. His laundry. His cleaning up. Everything.”
I flipped the light off, then gestured for her to head back to my room.
Once I passed the alarm panel, I stopped and backed up, setting it.
That would take some getting used to.
When I made it to the bedroom, it was to find her already on the side of the bed that I liked to sleep on.
Instead of asking her to move, I went to the opposite side of the bed and wondered whether I needed to sleep in my t-shirt and shorts or not.
Figuring she wasn’t ready for me unclothed, I chose to keep everything on.
I lay down next to her, then reached over and switched off the lamp.
When we were plunged into the darkness, I leaned my head back against the pillow and tried not to think about the woman in nothing but my t-shirt that lay next to me. Or the fact that my shorts were already bunching up around my thighs weirdly.
I didn’t like wearing things on my lower half to bed.
Son of a bitch.
“Hey, Bain?”
I turned my head to look at her, even though it was moot. I couldn’t see her through the darkness.
“Yeah?” I rasped.
Jesus, I sounded like I was a pack-a-day smoker.
Could she hear the desire in my voice?
I palmed my cock in my hand and counted.
I made it to a thousand before I realized it was a lost cause.
My cock gave a throb in response.
“Thank you for coming to get me tonight,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes and started counting again. “Anything for you, Luce.”
CHAPTER 7
Don’t let your ice cream melt while you’re counting someone else’s sprinkles.
-Luce to Bain
LUCE
“We can eat breakfast there, you can explain to your boss and then I’ll drop you off at school for your first final.”
He was standing in the middle of his kitchen in a pair of low-slung jeans, motorcycle boots and a cup of coffee in his hand.
He had his t-shirt half on, but had paused momentarily to take a sip of his coffee.
I rolled my eyes.
“And will you wait for me to get done?” I asked.
It was one thing for him to ask me not to go to work. That I was willing to do.
But it was another for him to ask me to skip school—and my last final for one of my classes—and he knew it.
I had a feeling he would be standing outside the door tomorrow until my final was over.
Speaking of final, I needed to text my best friend to see if she was up.
I did so, trying to ignore the man in the kitchen with me that still had his shirt partially on.
Me: Are you up and ready for the final?
“No.” He paused. “I have to go take my mom to get her nails done today. But that shouldn’t take more than an hour and you said that the final was at least one hour.”
Damn, did the man listen to everything that I said?
Matilda: Yes and yes. Are you? I noticed that you didn’t come home last night.
I grimaced.
She would freak out if she knew why.