Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
He arches a brow. “Why?”
“Everyone in your family knows what happened between us and they’re placing bets on whether we’ll be an item by the time we get back.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course, they are. Wouldn’t be my family if they weren’t up in my business before there’s even any business to be up in.”
I smile, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure last night was some pretty serious business. The shower, too.”
His eyes flash. “Damned straight.” His hands curl around the backs of my knees, guiding my thighs apart as he comes to kneel between them. “And what do you mean by ‘if we’re still dating,’ woman? Do I need to remind you how good this is? I thought I did a decent job in the shower, but…”
Grinning, I loop my arms around his neck, welcoming his slow, sensual kiss. “You did an amazing job in the shower,” I whisper against his lips. “But I have a terrible memory.”
“Is that right?”
I hum in agreement, arching my back to make it easier for him to cup my ass. “It is. Just horrible. I might need vitamins or something. Maybe some Gingko Biloba.”
“I’ll be your Gingko Biloba, baby.”
Giggling, I fall back onto the couch, and soon Wes and I are putting on another show for Freya, who thankfully seems to lose interest shortly after my top comes off and scurries away in search of more wholesome entertainment.
Though, honestly, even wild, primal sex with Wes still feels kind of wholesome. Maybe it’s the warmth in his eyes or the care in his touch. Maybe it’s the way he’s so attuned to my body, sensing the exact moment to pull back or go harder.
Or maybe it’s the way he pulls me in for a hug afterward and kisses my forehead, murmuring, “You’re the best. The very best,” in a way that makes me believe it.
Whatever it is, by the time we leave our creepy, but enchanted fairy tale cabin in the woods, I suspect I’ve caught something far more serious than a crush.
Chapter 23
WESLEY
I’m no stranger to remote work. I work from home most Fridays during the summer and the entire office went remote during the pandemic. I learned to catch up on emails, while taking a meeting on Zoom and researching precedents for my cases, all at the same time.
I should be able to tackle emails and delegate essential tasks to my team in the back of the camper while Tessa drives with no problem.
But the problem is: I can still see Tessa.
Smell Tessa’s perfume drifting through the air…
Remember exactly how Tessa’s pussy feels locked around my cock when I’m coming buried deep inside her…
Clearing my throat, I turn back to my screen. Must not think of Tessa’s pussy. Must not think of Tessa at all until my work is done and I’m free to play.
That’s what it feels like, being with her—play. Shopping at Trout World felt like play, devouring a nice meal surrounded by clowns felt like play, and last night was the steamiest, sexiest play of all. I just have such a good time with her. It feels like I’ve known her so much longer than a few years and like I’ve been wanting to know her even longer than that.
I’m pretty sure she’s my person, my partner in crime, the Lady Gray to my Preston, the Beauty to my Beast, and a friend I’d be lucky to have by my side for the rest of my life.
Yeah, and telling her that anytime soon is a good way to end up as unhappy as Mr. and Mrs. Yackoff. You need to slow your roll, dude, or you’ll scare her away all over again.
Admitting the voice of caution has a point, I force myself to focus on Yackoff vs. Yackoff until I have all my research completed and my recommendations sent to my client.
Thankfully, by the time Tessa pulls over for gas around lunchtime, I’m finished with everything that can’t wait until next week. After slipping Freya into her harness, I emerge from the camper.
“Hey,” Tessa says, smiling as I join her at the gas tank. “How’s the donut making going?”
“The donuts are all made,” I say, passing Freya into her arms and leaning in for a kiss, my chest filling with more warm bubbles when she hums happily against my lips. “Everything has been delegated, and I’m free until next week,” I say as I pull back and nod toward the grassy area beside the convenience store. “Go ahead and take Freya for her potty break. I can finish up here.”
“Okay.” She snuggles Freya closer, scratching her neck. “But then we have to have a serious discussion about whether to do sandwiches for lunch or stop for barbeque at Wild Bill’s Barbeque Rodeo Palace.”