Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Four holes in, Pres sinks another glow in the dark green ball into the mouth of a zombie coming out of the grave on her first try. “Score!”
“How is it you’ve supposedly never played put-put before but are whoopin’ my ass this bad?”
She spins on her leopard print shoe covered feet to maintain eye contact while she backs up towards retrieving her ball. “It’s just balls and holes, babe. Pretty intuitive stuff.”
“Putting things in holes usually is.” I wolfishly wink.
“Ohmygod,” she girlishly squawks before turning around to grab the object.
Having her bent over, tight, light knee destressed jean covered ass on perfect display for the admiring has me playfully echoing, “Ohmygod indeed, baby.”
More snickers escapes as she stands all the way back up and points a finger at me. “Behave.”
“I’m simply complimenting my woman.” My rebuttal is attached to a wide mouth grin. “And that is shit I will never not do.”
Pres’s grin grows out of control, although she tries to play it off.
Real shit?
Her face lighting up like that sometimes brings an ache to my chest.
I don’t know much about the prick before me – primarily because I don’t wanna fucking know –, but there are things I’ve learned from her actions that fucking kill me to see. It’s evident he didn’t spend much time appreciating how fucking stunning she is or saying the shit out loud. Why would she look at me like she wants to cry when I tell her how beautiful she looks in a dress for dinner?
And while that shit is bad enough, the real fucking area that gets me is in the sack. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for a mindless fuck and a good night’s sleep, especially after a long day, but sometimes you really should slow the shit down. Undress one another. Use foreplay for what it was meant for, not skip it like its an add-on service with a terrible surcharge. Her hang ups in bed come out in ways she probably doesn’t even realize.
Asking to share a shower with me when she already knows I’m gonna say yes.
Reassuring me it’s fine if I can’t stay up for sex while waiting for her to finish playing solitaire in the bath.
Announcing she bought new lingerie like there was a possibility I wouldn’t fucking notice.
How do you not notice that shit?!
Her?
How the fuck do you take a woman like this for granted instead of treasuring her every possible chance you’re given?
Yeah, I know, I fucked up back then, but we were…practically kids pretending to be adults.
Shit’s different now.
I won’t fuck this up.
Not twice.
“Um…,” she innocently hums and kicks her head to the starting area, “it’s um…your turn.”
Moving over to get into position, I ask, “You really never did shit like this back in college?”
“No. Most of the people I associated with in my non-class, non-work time went to slam poetry sessions or volunteering at animal shelters, which I loved except it made me want a dog and there was no way I could get a dog back then.”
“Why haven’t you gotten a dog now?”
“Xander wasn’t interested in owning a pet.”
“And?”
“And so we didn’t.”
A small hum is given on a swing of the club.
Noted.
“What about you?”
“Like do I want a dog?” I let my gaze follow the rolling ball. “Because I’m open to sharing a dog with you as long as it’s not a St. Bernard. Big Roscoe has one that he brings by the shop and that fucker sheds everywhere.” Tilting my head to the side to continue to watch the rolling object, I add, “And it’s my ass who’s responsible for cleaning it all up.”
She makes a sympathetic sound prior to following me forward so that I can take a second swing. “No, like did you end up going to college?”
The subject of my shortcomings being brought up again strikes a craving to appear out of practically nowhere. “No.”
“What’d you end up doing? Just working?”
“Yeah, I um…” the swing I take is much too hard and sends the ball zigzagging all around, “I dumped Bambi the day of graduation and ended up taking off to the beach like you and I had talked about. Did some shit there. Met some people. Got bored. Moved on.” Chasing after the ball keeps me from having to stare into her eyes. “Kind of just bounced around the country picking up work where I could find it.” Not wanting more of my sketchy past revealed, I turn the spotlight back to her. “Why didn’t you and Carmen stay friends after high school?”
“Separate colleges and stuff. She was definitely more of the mixers and frat parties extraordinaire, and I was all about a more lowkey life. We grew apart during our first semesters and by the following summer we weren’t talking at all.”
Can’t say I’m totally surprised.