Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Brody comes up behind her, and I force myself to look away, focusing instead on the annoyance that is my son. He's looking at me but not meeting my gaze, and he's got his hand on the small of the woman's back like he's staking a claim. "Pops, this is Delia," he says.
She holds out a hand, stepping closer. "It's so good to finally meet you, Mr. Dixon."
Her voice is melodic and sweet. I stare down at her, still feeling slightly stunned. As soon as I touch her soft skin, it's like an electric jolt runs through me. I look down at Delia, watching her eyes go wide and her pupils dilate. All of my blood is rushing to my cock, and I'm struggling to keep my brain running.
Looking into her eyes tells me something else too. It tells me that she’s just as bothered by me as I am her. It’s there in the way that she shifts from foot to foot and in the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, like a sinful little invitation.
Oh, it’s going to be a difficult few fucking days, that’s for sure. I'm forty, too young to have a heart attack, and yet I'm still worried it's coming on.
"Call me Dean," I say, clearing my throat. "Nice to meet you." I drop her hand, and the loss of her touch is almost painful. "You guys are staying for Thanksgiving, huh?"
"Yes," Delia says, nodding her head. Her brown hair swishes and her lips tip up. "Thanks so much for having me. It's been a really long time since I've had an actual Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm really excited."
I raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure it will be fun, but I’ve got to be honest…I’m ordering catering. Cooking an entire Thanksgiving dinner might be beyond me.”
She giggles, her laugh like the sweet ringing of bells. “Oh, I’m sure you could pull it off if you really wanted. But don’t worry…didn’t Brody tell you? I’m a professional cook!”
I shake my head once to banish the image of her cooking for me in nothing but an apron. “Oh yeah? So if I buy the stuff, you’re going to keep me well-fed, huh?”
There’s a flush high on her cheeks like she isn’t sure if there’s something more sexual behind my words. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I mean for it to sound dirty, but I’m definitely thinking about all the other things she could serve me to eat that I’m hungry for. Namely, what’s between her legs…
“I can try,” Delia breathes, biting her bottom lip. “Do you have a big appetite, Mr. Dixon?”
I open my mouth to answer her with the words, I can show you just how big my appetite is, when my son huffs, and I’m snapped out of the haze that this girl has put me in.
Brody rolls his eyes. "Come on, Delia, enough chit-chat. Let's go inside. Pops, did you make up the spare room for us?”
My gaze shoots daggers at him for interrupting me, and I see a brief flash of fear in his eyes. I should be ashamed of how easily he scares, but right now, it’s working to my advantage, so I don’t feel too bad that my own son is a little bitch.
"The spare room is ready," I bite out. “But the bed is only a full size, as you know.”
"Cool." He looks down at Delia, who looks suddenly unhappy. “We don’t mind being close. Do we, Dels?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I already told you I’m not comfortable–”
Brody scoffs. “Come on. Look at this place, Delia. Do you really think Dad has more room? Look at this cracker box.”
Anger flares. “You’re more than welcome to get a hotel, you little shit. But I was under the impression you couldn’t afford it.”
Brody’s face goes red, but he doesn’t say anything. I look back at Delia, softening my tone with some effort. “You can take the guest room if you want, Delia. Brody can sleep on the couch.”
She looks relieved. “Oh, that’s okay. I can sleep on the couch, and he can take the guest room.”
“My son is more of a gentleman than that,” I tell her, and I can see Brody clenching his jaw out of the corner of my eye. I’ve backed him into a corner, and I know he doesn’t like it. I don’t give a fuck.
“Of course,” he says between his teeth. “Let’s go in.”
Laughing to myself, I let Brody lead Delia around me and toward the house, hooking my thumbs into my pockets and following them. Watching Delia’s hips sway and the round globes of her ass is a nice distraction, but I’ve got some thinking to do. Brody might be my son, but his hand on her shoulder is unacceptable. Once I make a decision, I don’t back down, and I’ve decided that Delia is going to belong to me.