Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Jesus Christ. Stop staring and speak.
“Yes?” he prompted, eyeing the plate in my hands.
I forced myself to smile. “Hi. I brought you some muscles. I mean some abs. I mean some chicken!”
My smile faded and my face was on fire—I wanted to die on the spot.
But his eyebrows went up, and he cracked a smile. Barely. “Come on in.”
Six
Ryan
I’d just gotten out of the shower and pulled on some pants when I heard the knock. I figured it was Mrs. Gardner with cookies or something, but instead it was the granddaughter. Stella.
Even her name was beautiful. I thought it meant star, but I wasn’t sure.
I opened the door a little wider and stepped back to let her in. As she passed me I caught the scent of something feminine and sweet. Was it her perfume? Her hair? Her soap?
Whatever it was made me wish I hadn’t invited her in. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since I left her grandmother’s house, and my thoughts weren’t entirely pure. Her photo had been pretty, but in person, she was stunning. Hair like gold. Deep blue eyes. That shy smile. Those legs for days. Even wearing a shirt nearly buttoned up to her chin, she gave my dirty mind enough material to work with without knowing how good she smelled.
But it was cute how flustered she seemed, as if she’d never seen a naked chest before.
Plus she’d brought real food.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening,” she said, offering me the plate covered with foil. “Grams just thought maybe you might like some dinner.”
I took it from her, careful not to touch her hands. “Thanks.”
Our eyes met and something happened in my chest—an extra thump. I looked away.
“It’s really nice of you to help Grams out so much.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, really. She appreciates it. I appreciate it.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I worry about her living alone up here at her age. I feel better knowing someone is nearby who can look in on her.”
I nodded, kicking myself for asking her in. Now what was I supposed to do with her? I was totally out of practice at talking to women socially. And I was so fucking hungry—I’d smelled whatever it was they were having for dinner while I was working on the porch, and my stomach had begged me to say yes when Mrs. Gardner invited me to eat with them. But I couldn’t.
“So how long have you been here?” Stella asked, looking around.
“Since June.”
She nodded. “Looks like you’re doing some work on the place?”
Before I could answer, my stomach groaned noisily.
Her eyes widened as she looked at my middle. “That’s a seriously empty belly.”
“I’m starving,” I admitted.
“You should eat,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you. I’ll go.” She moved toward the door and turned around. “Unless you’d like company? You don’t have to eat alone.”
“I like being alone.”
She nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay.”
I watched her push the screen door open and step onto the porch, closing it gently behind her.
She smiled. “Yours doesn’t squeak.”
“I oiled the hinges.”
“Grams’s door sounds kind of like your belly.”
“I’ve been meaning to oil the hinges for her. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
She nodded, lifted one hand in a wave. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night.”
She stood there for a few extra seconds, like there was something more she wanted to say, but in the end she walked away.
Watching her disappear into the dark, I had the craziest urge to call out and ask her to come back. To sit with me. Talk to me.
But I knew better than that. A second later, the switch was flipped, and the feeling was gone.
That night, I had a dream about her. We were on my bike, flying down a country road, which was ridiculous, because Stella did not look like a woman who’d enjoy being on the back of a motorcycle. But in my dream, she was behind me, her thighs pressed against mine, her arms wrapped around my waist, her breasts touching my back. Around us, colors were vibrant and shimmering. I felt alive and free and bursting with adrenaline—not the kind that comes from danger, but the kind that comes from excitement. Her hands started to roam over my crotch, and my cock bulged inside my jeans. Goddamn, it felt good.
I woke up hot and sweaty, my breathing heavy, my dick rock hard. Fuck. Mindlessly, I took it in my hand, working my fist up and down its length. I imagined it was her hand. She’d reached around and unzipped my jeans while we rode, wrapping her fingers around my cock. She was playful at first, teasing the crown with velvet fingertips, stroking slowly up and down my shaft, moaning softly in my ear. Her voice dripped honey.
I pulled off the road and into the woods, where we were hidden by evergreens and the thick trunks of maple trees. I turned to face her on the bike. She was naked—even more ridiculous—and I grew harder as my eyes traveled over her creamy vanilla skin and luscious full breasts, their raspberry peaks firm and tempting.