Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
She chuckled. “Yes and no. I know I’ll just have to start cleaning the house. The odds of Tom having done much are not in my favor, and the boys probably need me to go restock the cupboards.”
I winced in sympathy. “I’ve told you to use my cleaning service,” I reminded. “Use my delivery service too. In fact, I’ll tell Peyton to put in a request as soon as we get home. Don’t argue with me.”
She smashed her lips shut and gave me a frustrated look.
I smiled.
I liked to win.
A weekend in Boston turned out to be exactly what we needed. I was able to set Peyton up with his own work phone, a corporate card, and all the access codes he could need. Everything would be at the office on Monday. Julia would get some much-needed downtime, and plans were made for her to spend tomorrow with my cousin’s children. Lastly, Peyton brought warmth into my home, even as he criticized my decorating style, which, frankly, wasn’t mine at all. A company had done it.
“Glass table? Is this the eighties? Come on, sir.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re wasting this beautiful penthouse when you hide exposed brick with fucking velvet.”
“You know, this is a Renaissance revival building. Maybe you’ve heard of something in New York called the Flatiron Building? Same style. But whereas they send tourists to the Flatiron, you hide yours. Shame on you.”
“You make me wanna cry. Bronze statues?”
“I bet there are gorgeous hardwood floors under this hideous carpet.”
“Thank God you left the spiral staircase alone. Judging by the rest of your additions, I’m surprised you didn’t install an escalator.”
“Black marble. Interesting.”
The historian in Peyton was making an appearance, and he was a sassy little fucker who didn’t hold back.
It was difficult to take the criticism personally, though, when I hadn’t truly ever liked it myself. But the penthouse on its own suited me perfectly. I liked old buildings, and I had two floors all to myself, along with a rooftop terrace. Three bedrooms upstairs, then living room, kitchen, and office downstairs.
“First bedroom upstairs is mine, second is Julia’s, the guest room after is yours,” I told him. “But you might want to use my bathroom. The other one is shared between your and Julia’s rooms.”
“You’re not going to have a go at me for so brutally annihilating your style?”
I smirked and patted his cheek on the way to the stairs. “No, I understand you’re just upset that I hurt your feelings about the neck pillow.”
“I’m really not, sir!” he hollered after me.
I laughed. “So, do something about it, then. You know how to use my credit cards. Go nuts.”
He huffed, glancing around the foyer. “Again, I never know if you’re joking or if you’re serious.”
I liked it that way. It kept him on his toes.
Julia went to bed early that evening. She’d been cranky and throwing fits all day.
Now I received my reward for surviving them. The house was quiet, I’d enjoyed a long, hot shower, and it felt fantastic to be in my own bed. I’d landed stark naked on top of the duvet—everything was fresh and smelling of softener—and I had no intention of moving anytime soon.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read for leisure.
I couldn’t remember the last time I was in bed before ten either.
After adjusting my reading glasses, I placed a hand behind my head and turned the page on my tablet.
Two quiet knocks interrupted my peace, followed by, “Sir, are you awake?”
“I am,” I responded. “You’re free to come in, but I should warn you that I’m not wearing anything.”
There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Um, can you cover up, then?”
I stifled a smile and turned another page. “No, I’m too comfortable.”
He huffed.
I drew up one knee a bit and waited. Would he faint if he saw the dildo in my nightstand? There was one in the bathroom too, with its own shower mount.
“I wanted to show you something, okay?” Peyton grated.
I chuckled. “Well, whatever it is, I hope I get to see it.”
He wasn’t anywhere near breaking point, so it couldn’t be anything that resulted in the gratification I’d denied myself in the shower.
Peyton cursed. About a second later, the door opened slowly. Pleasure filled my chest, and I took a deep breath. Good boy. Come closer. I peered at him over the rims of my reading glasses, wondering if he was going to lift his gaze off the floor or not.
He’d showered too. His hair was still damp, and he looked comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Well. Comfortable was a relative term.
“What did you want me to see, pet?”
He swallowed hard and shifted his stare the bare minimum, and it seemed to be enough. But rather than quickly averting his gaze, he got stuck. Heat bled across his cheeks, and he just stared. That would cause a reaction soon if he wasn’t careful. His eyes on me turned me on beyond belief.