Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“There’s no need to worry about that. When we’re informed our clients won’t be home, we make sure all perishables are packed accordingly.”
With my confusion too high not to seek answers from a stranger, I ask, “Why would my dad think I wouldn’t be home on a Saturday night?”
Caleb answers my question on the driver’s behalf. “Our parents are more perceptive than we give them credit for. They know something is wrong even when we don’t say anything.”
He places the final box on the kitchen counter before handing the delivery driver a tip he refuses to take.
“Everything is paid in advance… tips included.”
Caleb dips his chin in understanding before stuffing one of the bills tossed on the stage for him tonight back into his pocket.
The driver takes that as his cue to leave. “See you next week.”
“Next week?” I gabber out, shocked.
The driver shifts on his feet to face me. “Yes. We have the next several weeks of orders prepaid.”
With my bewilderment too high to communicate, the driver farewells me with a dip of his chin before he leaves me standing in the foyer of my apartment, blinking and mute.
Caleb is halfway through unpacking the perishables before my shock lifts. “I can’t let him do this. He doesn’t have the means to support me like this.” I stop, snap my back molars together, then try again. “Well, he does, but that isn’t the point. I’m an adult, and he needs to respect my decision that I want to stand on my own two feet.”
“What are you doing?” Caleb asks when I march into the kitchen to search for my phone.
“I’m going to call him and tell him thanks but no thanks.”
Just like the delivery slip, my cell phone is snatched from my hand before I can dial a single number. “I think you should accept his generosity with blatant denial like every other spoiled brat these days.”
“That’s the point!” I toss my hands into the air. “I don’t want to be a spoiled brat.”
“So you’d rather your father leave you defenseless to the wolves like Octavia’s dad did to her?” Caleb curses under his breath before snapping his mouth shut like he said too much.
In a way, he did. Octavia never talks about her family, so I knew they weren’t close, but I thought grief wouldn’t let her express herself. I had no clue abuse was a part of the equation.
After a length of silence long enough to make me fret our night will never get back on the flirty, fun track, Caleb says, “Sometimes you just need to let people help you. If they’re doing it for the right reasons, why does it have to be treated like a negative?”
“It doesn’t,” I answer, speaking from my heart.
Caleb’s smile takes care of my earlier worry. “Exactly. So take it for what is it, Jessie. Someone cares about you enough they want to make sure you’re eating right.” He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead before murmuring, “There could be far worse things they could do to you than care.”
Certain I’m reading the energy crackling in the air right, I whisper, “Such as?”
I feel Caleb’s smile more than I see it. Regretfully, I can’t force one onto my face when he murmurs, “If only it wasn’t August because there are no special occasions in August.”
CHAPTER 22
CALEB
Buttons from Jess’s dress click against the floor separating her apartment from the stairwell as we stumble for her front door. Our impatience had gotten the better of us. We’ve broken every single rule the past month—every damn one of them—yet instead of freaking out like I did when I used a restroom that wasn’t mine for the first time, I’m relishing the change-up.
I’m doing four to six gigs each weekend because of the inspiration Jess’s sexy body and sassy attitude award me, which brings in enough funds to cover both Octavia’s share of the rent and mine, and every Saturday without fail, Jess is supplied with enough food to last her a month.
Life is good, and I can only see it getting better when Jess’s fantastic tits are exposed to my ravishing eyes within a nanosecond of us breaking through the entrance of her apartment.
“Too impatient,” I mutter against her sweat-dotted skin before I plant her backside onto the entryway table, slip her meager yet completely drenched-through panties to the side, then bury my head between her legs. “Hungry now.”
Jess’s thighs fight not to clamp around my head when I blow a hot breath across her glistening slit before I spear my tongue between the folds and drag it up to her clit. As one of her hands weaves through my hair, the other secures a tight grip on the table that begins rocking in rhythm to her hips when my tongue floats over the achy bud between her legs.