Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
And I was so delighted he understood it the way he did, I wanted to suck face with him right on the spot for knowing it and being able to state it so concisely and eloquently.
Obviously, I refrained.
“I’m sorry, mon père bien-aimé,” she murmured, and although quiet, I could see it was genuine.
“Mika and I are together,” Tom stated.
Now I felt like preening.
“We’re going to explore this,” he went on. “So now, what are you going to do?”
Chloe looked befuddled.
I nearly burst out laughing.
I refrained from that too.
Judge finally entered the conversation.
And he sounded more exasperated than Chloe’s father.
“For fuck’s sake, baby, you’re gonna butt out.”
“Oh, right. Bien sûr,” she said.
She so totally wasn’t going to butt out.
“Can I take Venus with me when we go home?” she asked.
“No,” Tom denied. “She needs two more months with me and her litter before she’s separated.”
His daughter gasped in horror.
“Two months?”
“They’re developing in a lot of ways, not just physically, also socially. They’ve imprinted on me for the time being. They need me and their siblings. People remove kittens far too quickly from their litters.”
“Okay then, maybe they’ll imprint on me, and we’ll take all five of them home and keep them until they’re ready to leave the nest,” she haggled.
“Jesus Christ,” Judge hissed.
She looked to him. “Please don’t sit there playing with two of them and pretending you don’t want all five.”
He was in a tough position, since that was exactly what he was doing, with one clawing its way up his chest and the other one chasing the finger he was darting about for her.
“You’re not taking the cats,” Tom said.
“Father.”
“No. Nala is Clay’s. He comes over to play with her so she’ll get used to him. And I don’t think Bray and Pris will be thrilled to drive him to Prescott three times a week.”
Clay was coming over that often?
How cute.
“Can we have blueberry pancakes?” Chloe asked.
“No,” Tom answered.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Then maybe you and Judge can play a game of tennis while Mika and I drink mimosas.”
Tom looked down at me. “Either she wants a chance to get to know you better, or she has another scheme. It could be Sully, Bowie’s oldest. It could be Matt. It could be Jamie. It could be Dru. It could be that fucking Rhys guy for all I know. But she wants you embroiled in it. My advice, steer well clear.”
I totally was not going to do that.
Next match made, I was all in.
“All right, sweetheart,” I said quietly.
“For fucks sake,” he muttered.
He knew I was fibbing.
How did that happen?
Oh well.
Whatever.
When I looked her way, Chloe was preening again.
I understood that feeling.
Which was why I smiled broadly at her.
* * *
He had soft skin.
He had hard muscle.
He was rough and hairy in all the right places, his legs, his chest, the thatch around his pretty cock.
We were under his sheet in his bed like we were in a Rom Com, Tom on his back, me up on a forearm, pressed against his side. The sheet was tented by my head and a stack of pillows.
And Tom was allowing me to trail my fingers all over him.
As for me, I wasn’t wasting the opportunity.
I was glorying in it.
The man was take charge during sex. Like, completely. You went with his flow, or he made you do it.
I’d learned that quickly. In fact, after our first go. I knew it wasn’t about selfishness. He had the goods to take us both there, he got off on doing that aggressively and in absolute control, and I got off on trusting him with me.
With us.
There was more to it, of course.
Rollo left me with his share of three platinum-selling albums, the residuals that would come from that and any merchandising in place from when he was alive.
This was millions, and it was far from stagnant.
I didn’t do too badly for myself, but the resurgence of interest in my work added significantly to those coffers.
But I had a daughter. She might go to college. She might have a wedding. She might need help with a down payment for a house. And I needed to be prepared.
I was self-employed, we both needed insurance, and life had a way of fucking with you, so I also had to be prepared in case one of us got hurt or sick.
We needed a roof over our head.
Food.
Clothes.
She needed a good education.
And no matter what she said, I planned for her future so she’d never truly feel need, and neither would her children.
But it went on and on.
And on.
All on me (and my PA, Teddy).
But it was all on me.
Making decisions about her schooling. Making decisions about her curfew. Making decisions about whether or not to buy her a car (here in Arizona, she didn’t need one in the city—by the way, I bought her a car).