Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I took a breath and nodded once. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be difficult—”
“Oh, there’s that word again.” He raised a brow in warning.
Goddamn. Yes. Right. We’d had this discussion already. Hell, now I felt awkward. I cleared my throat and squeezed his hand briefly. “I apologize, son. I’m not being difficult because I’m expressing my thoughts.”
“That’s better. Good Daddy.” He reached up and kissed my cheek. “I wanna know every concern—always. Understood?”
I exhaled and nodded again. “Yes, Sir. Otherwise, you can’t make informed decisions.”
“Exactly. Now, let’s log a couple hours on the treadmill before we enjoy our Turkey Day.”
A couple hours?!
Boy was mad.
“I have a complaint,” I announced.
He laughed. “Take it up with HR.”
My God, how had I not learned my lesson from yesterday?
I collapsed on the bed and groaned at how full I was.
After our Thanksgiving lunch at Sequoia yesterday, we’d stopped at one of the few open stores to pick up dessert—for much, much later—as well as bread and fixings for a lazy day at home. We’d had wine and cheese in bed, filled baguettes in front of the TV, and cake in the tub.
That should’ve been enough.
Alas…today was a new day, and we’d bought more Thanksgiving food home with us once I’d purchased my new earbuds. Now I couldn’t even think about food.
“Macklin sent the list of attendees for tonight.” Jack joined me in the bedroom, gaze stuck on his phone. He’d eaten more than I had, so why wasn’t he struggling to stay upright? Why were his abs so damn visible?
I loved that he’d taken to wearing nothing but sweatpants around the house, because, one, it displayed his body, and two, he rarely wore underwear.
“Let’s hear it,” I yawned.
While he got comfortable in bed, I managed to push down my pants and lose the sweater. Socks off. Boxer briefs off. Watch off. Everything except the last thing ended up on the floor.
The watch had been a gift from Claire when Lily was born. The back was engraved with her birth date.
“Macklin, of course. You and me. Tate and Kingsley. KC and Noa.”
Oh. Oh, that would be interesting. I wondered if KC and Noa would play freely with others or if they’d have plenty of boundaries. Kingsley and Tate had boundaries. They weren’t interested in fucking around with people they didn’t know.
“The rest are complete strangers to me,” Jack went on. “Wait, you’ve mentioned River and Reese Tenley, right? And their partner?”
I nodded drowsily and threw the duvet over me. “Shay. I don’t think they’ll be part of the buffet, but I’ve been told the twins are voyeurs, so it’s possible they’ll set Shay up for some play they can watch.”
“That’s hot.” Jack scrolled a little on his phone. “Dean A…avik? Aavik. I think that’s how it’s pronounced.”
I squinted at nothing. The name didn’t ring a bell. “I don’t know who that is.”
“And Beau?”
Hmm. I’d heard of him. Never met him. “I think he’s one of the younger Doms.” But I wasn’t sure. “Around your age, perhaps.”
“Well, that’s the gist of the sausage party list.”
I rumbled a laugh and folded an arm under my head.
“Speaking of.” He shifted closer and dropped a kiss to my stomach. “We should discuss rules and expectations for tonight.” He rubbed his nose against my happy trail. “Have I mentioned I love your fuzzy stomach?”
I grunted and tried to turn away from him—as if he’d let me.
“Quit it,” he said, squirming out of his sweats. “You’re not actually self-conscious about your looks, are you? As someone who’s been jerking off to you for over fifteen years, I’d like to think of myself as a Franklin Townsend expert, and you’ve never been more gorgeous.”
He was sweet. And I appreciated the ego boost. I wasn’t unhappy with my appearance, but I’d started hanging out with men who had too-good genes. Kingsley, for instance, could eat forever and not gain a pound. I looked at a dessert, and my pants magically shrank.
“I don’t dislike my reflection per se,” I replied. “But hanging out with you and Tate and Kingsley serves as a reminder that my primary diet consists of having grilled cheese with my daughter. Not to mention how I’ve neglected my health for years.”
He closed his eyes and used my stomach as his pillow. “Kinda hard to muster any energy to take care of yourself when you’re not happy.”
True.
That was thankfully changing. I touched his cheek and loved seeing him so relaxed.
“You make me happy,” I murmured.
He smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “Ditto, Unc.”
For every moment I spent with him, I grew more attached to his takeover operation. I’d come a long way since Samantha and I had signed the divorce papers, and each ounce of progress had killed a little of the doom and gloom, and it’d made me realize it was okay to believe in a brighter future.