Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Mmm, that smells good,” I moan as Stone pulls a roast chicken out of the oven. The skin of it is crackling brown, its juices pooling in the tray. As he sets it on the counter, a heavenly aroma of savory spice envelopes me, causing my mouth to water.
“Get back to your washing,” he commands with a quirk of a smile. “The chicken’s got to cool before it can be served, so focus on the carrots.”
I smile back before turning to the veggies once more. I love a man who can cook, and Stone has just pulled a rabbit out of a hat – I would never have guessed that he’s a master chef.
But the man isn’t done with the surprises yet. With a special knife, he flicks off the tops of the carrots and then juliennes them, throwing them into a glass pan before seasoning them with all sorts of spices.
“We need a little Himalayan sea salt, a little cracked pepper, and … hmmm … maybe some thyme,” he murmurs as his deft fingers sprinkle ingredients over the orange tips. And I simply watch, amazed as the everyday vegetables go from plain Jane to amazing – something that complements the roast chicken perfectly, providing balance, flavor, and depth to the meal.
After the meal is all finished, I dig in greedily. I’m so hungry that I hardly notice the steps Stone has taken to make the meal more romantic – lighting candles, putting out fancy linens, using real silverware, and supplying fine wine. The food is so good that I moan with my first bite of chicken. My eyes close while I chew pure heaven in my mouth.
“Ohhh … mmmm,” I hum. “This is amazing.”
Stone growls across the table from me.
“And baby, I want you to eat,” he commands. “You’re too thin.”
Too thin? I’m a size twelve on a good day; my curves are sassy and spreading with each month. If I’m not careful, I’ll be a fourteen or sixteen soon.
But it’s like Stone can read my mind. “Yeah, you’re too thin,” he growls. “You’d look even better if you put on twenty pounds, put some real flesh on you.”
I gasp. “Twenty pounds! I’ll be sticking out to here if I do,” I giggle, holding my hand in front of my girls about another foot.
Stone’s eyes just turn hungry. “So what if you do?” he asks. “The more of you to love, to taste, and to fuck, my dear.”
I gasp. “Dirty language at the table, Professor?” I coo coyly.
“With you, baby girl, always,” he rumbles, his eyes hungry and his big body already rock solid.
But the meal doesn’t devolve into innuendos. If anything, Stone and I have an amazing conversation. We are a really great match, with similar interests and ideas.
“Where’d you get this?” I ask, taking the wine bottle in hand and gazing at its label questioningly. It’s something really fancy with a name I can’t pronounce: Chateau D’Yquem. How do you say that? DEE-keem? De-KEM? It’s expensive for sure – the label is in elegant script with the etching of a crown.
Stone pauses a moment before saying, “France.”
“Oh! You were in France?” I ask. “I’m hoping to go sometime, maybe in the next couple of years. It’ll be so fun! I love pastries, and I hear every other shop in Le Marais is a bakery.” I lick my lips slightly at the thought.
Stone is silent for a moment, watching the flicker of my tongue, mesmerized, before casually asking, “You’ve never been?” He leans back in his chair, his big form relaxed and sated from the food.
“Nope, never,” I reply, patting my lips delicately. “It’s expensive. Plane tickets out to Europe are $600 minimum, and I have to save for college and all that. But,” I say with a shy smile, “I’ve wanted to go to Paris since I was a little girl. You know, to meet my Prince Charming on top of the Eiffel Tower.”
Stone smiles at me tenderly, reaching forward to push a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “You will,” he murmurs throatily. “A girl as beautiful as you will absolutely meet her Prince Charming one day.”
I’m a little stung by his words. Isn’t Stone supposed to proclaim, ‘Oh, I’m your Prince Charming, and I’m going to carry you off into the sunset. Come with me on my white horse’? Instead, it sounds like he’s saying, ‘You’re a sweet little girl, and Prince Charming is coming, but it’s not me.’
So I frown. “What do you mean, I’ll meet my Prince Charming one day?” I repeat his words slowly. As much as I want to keep this a nice dinner and enjoy myself, I can’t let a comment like that just pass by.
Stone realizes his error immediately. “Evie, you’re young. It’s hard to know what you want when you haven’t experienced the world yet. You have so much ahead of you.”