Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"Good morning," the man says as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, like a father who just caught his teenage daughter in a compromising situation with the neighbor boy. "Did you sleep well?"
I dip my head, lying, because I could never confess the truth to anyone. I don't even know if it would be a conversation I'd feel comfortable having with Morgan after a bottle of wine. That's saying something because I can't seem to control my loose lips after a few glasses of red.
Instead of Ellis turning around to assess the situation, he sips from his coffee cup as he opens the refrigerator door, pulling a carton of eggs and other things from inside before setting about to make breakfast.
I swear when he places a plate in front of me, it shocks me as much as the little kiss and snuggle did fifteen minutes ago.
"Thank you," I whisper, trying to recall when I last had someone make me a meal without me standing at a counter and paying for it.
"You need to keep your strength up," he says with another one of those quick winks that would make my knees weak if I were standing.
The chuckle from across the kitchen makes me realize the innuendo in his comment, and that forces my eyes to narrow at him.
But instead of calling him out on it, I pick up my fork and eat.
The food is delicious, even in its simplicity, and although I can feel his eyes on me as he eats, I keep mine locked on my plate, trying to focus on not choking with every bite.
I feel like I'm somehow existing outside of this situation, as if somehow I'm watching this happen rather than experiencing it myself because it's just so far-fetched. It doesn't seem like something that my mind would even be capable of conjuring on its own.
"I was thinking we could shower after breakfast."
How my fork dropping to my plate with such a clank didn't break the dish is beyond me.
"Excuse m-me?" I sputter, covering my mouth when I see a small piece of egg fly from it.
"A shower," he says, his smile slow and knowing.
I look around the room, but we're currently the only two people in here. That speaks to my level of distraction because I don't have a clue when Twisted and Rooster left.
Instead of badgering me about it, he takes my now empty plate from in front of me and rinses it in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher.
I stare at his back as he spends a few more minutes cleaning up from our meal, including taking my empty coffee cup and putting it in the dishwasher.
Instead of looking expectant when he turns around, he holds out his hand to me.
Like a fool, I place mine in his, curious about where this will go, although I'm fully aware of exactly what direction it's going to take as he leads me from the room.
My mouth grows dry, my knees weak, as we traverse the stairs back up to the room we're sharing.
"We can't have sex," I blurt once he closes us in the bedroom.
"Because of the annulment?"
I dip my head, watching him scrape his teeth over his lower lip as he watches my face.
"We can always lie about it."
"Morgan said the same thing," I confess, wishing I would've just kept my damn mouth closed for the smile it brings to his face.
"I think I like your friend already," he says, his thumbs hooking inside the waistband of his sweats.
"Wait," I blurt, holding my hands out to stop him. "I don't know if this is the best idea."
"We aren't going to have sex, Kaylee. We're going to shower."
I know exactly what my face does when he chuckles, and it makes me wish I was better at hiding the disappointment.
When he pulls his hands from his body and holds one out to me, I feel like I'm being seduced by the devil himself. As a good girl from a small town, I don't understand why my hand reaches out to it.
The warmth of it sinks inside of me as he pulls me toward the bathroom. Once inside, I'm left standing there with my jaw practically on the floor when he shucks off his sweats, as if it's no big deal to have that muscular ass of his pointed at me. He reaches inside and turns on the water.
I dart my eyes away quickly when he turns around but not before getting an eyeful of his thick length.
I feel locked in place, my knees shaking and my hands trembling like I've never seen a man's naked body before. But, actually, I've never showered with a man before. All of my sexual encounters happened in the dark from the time I gave my virginity to my high school sweetheart until my last trip back home when I stupidly hooked up with the same man after his sob story of how his wife left him.