Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I know it will be fine because we agreed it would be casual and loose and easy, and neither one of us has expectations that can be failed at this point.
Easing the bedroom door open, I blank where the kitchen is for a moment, not actually having been in it. Like I said, we spent the entire evening in his bedroom.
Sometimes we were fooling around.
Sometimes we were having amazing sex.
Sometimes we were dozing.
And sometimes we even watched TV.
But his room is where I stayed.
I remember now the kitchen would be to my left, straight back off the living area, so I step out of his room and cut that way.
Before I see Jett, I smell food.
Bacon, more importantly, and my stomach rumbles. While the pizza was delicious last night, I know I burned far more calories than I put in.
I traverse a very short hall, then step into the kitchen, done in contemporary black cabinets and white marble countertops. Jett is at the stove, flipping bacon in a pan.
I can see immediately he’s not all that comfortable cooking, because when the bacon pops and grease hits his hand, he curses and jumps backward.
“Better let me do that,” I say and he jerks, turning to look over his shoulder at me.
“I can do it,” he replies. “Just not very well.”
Laughing, I move in beside him, take the fork from his hand, and nudge him out of the way with my hip. Instead of freely moving away, he loops his arm around my neck, taking my jaw and forcing my head to twist his way before he proceeds to kiss me absolutely breathless.
When he pulls away, he grins. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply, thankful I did a hack job brush of my teeth.
“I wanted to make you breakfast and serve it to you in bed,” he says, giving me a faux pout of disappointment.
I try not to look at him, keeping focused on the bacon. Because the little glance I got as I walked into the kitchen has me flushed.
He’s wearing nothing but the sweatpants he wore to grab the pizza at the door last night. They hang low on his hips and I got way too big of an eyeful of all his muscular glory above the waistband, my favorite being his left arm which has a thick band of tattoos around his bicep.
But what really got me, and why I don’t really want to look back, is that his sweatpants—while loose—do not hide his sizable dick swinging free in there. He doesn’t have an erection, but he has enough that I can see it outlined against the material, and now all I can think about is sex.
Again.
“So,” I say after clearing my throat. “You’re heading out on a road trip, aren’t you?”
Jett leans back against the counter to my right. “I have to be at the airport at noon. We’ll be back midday on Wednesday.”
I finish flipping the bacon and turn the heat down. “Scrambled eggs, okay?”
“Perfect,” he says and before he can offer, I move to the fridge to grab eggs.
By the time I pull them out, Jett has reached into the cabinet over his left shoulder and pulled out a small metal bowl. When I take it, he asks, “You want a cup of coffee?”
“I assume it’s too much to hope you have tea?” I ask.
He winces apologetically. “Sorry. Hadn’t planned on a Brit staying the night.”
“Oh, have a lot of people stay the night, do you?” I tease as I move to the counter and start cracking eggs, ignoring how important this answer is to me. “And coffee is fine. Black.”
“Actually, I don’t have anyone stay the night,” he replies casually, grabbing a mug to brew a cup from his Keurig.
My head whips his way. “You’ve never had anyone stay the night?”
Jett flushes a bit as he admits, “Let’s just say there’s no one I’ve ever trusted to bring to my place before.”
The implication is clear. He’s a player, as I well know. He does one-night stands. And it makes sense… he knows me by virtue of working for the Vengeance organization. I’m not some potential crazy he picked up at a bar. He’s had dinner at my house.
I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or not, but I move on.
I ask Jett about the upcoming road trip while I finish cooking us a simple breakfast, and he tells me the ins and outs of what each win or loss would mean, as well as how important it is at this point in the season to play with consistency.
We move to the table with our plates and coffee. Jett is packing away a whopping five eggs and six pieces of bacon while I’m satisfied with two of each.
As we’re finishing, he pushes his plate back and studies me a moment. “I hope this isn’t the last time you stay overnight with me.”