Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I supposed it was the most logical date. It couldn’t be after next weekend, at least. For one, October would be over. For two, Kit, Colt, and Lucas were going to Seattle to visit friends. And Colt and Lucas were usually an integral part of the planning of our Games. Besides, Colt wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this one.
Lee joined me on the couch and put on a pair of socks.
Then Shay posted his final guess in the chat.
My guess is this weekend. Maybe Sunday to throw us off, since most events are planned for Fridays and Saturdays.
He made a good point with the last part. The Sadists wanted to throw us off, all while their hands were still somewhat tied. It was unlikely they could put together an event for a weeknight. People had jobs.
We’ll just have to be ready for anything.
Kit’s message summed it all up. We had to be ready.
“Is Franklin picking you up?” Lee asked.
I side-eyed him and wiped milk off my bottom lip. “I’m not gonna tell you any details, Master.”
He was going to assume I was meeting up with Franklin in Mclean, and based on what little information I had on Lee’s “errands,” I was fairly confident we could pull this off.
It was almost ten o’clock now. Lee was heading out and had told me he’d be gone for at least four hours. He’d hinted at preparations for our primal play tonight, but who knew for sure? Either way, I knew he was going to want to shower and get ready before going out to Mclean, which meant he’d come back home right after his errands.
Lee sighed and got off the couch with a wry grin. “Fair enough, but you know I get a confirmation email every time we make a reservation for a guest room at the house.”
“Son of a bitch,” I groaned.
Acting. My. Ass. Off.
I deserved an Oscar.
Lee chuckled and patted my head. “You can surprise me next time, baby. I’ll meet up with you at the house around two or three.”
Two or three, noted. It meant he was estimating that he’d be done with his errands around one or two, then come home, get ready, and head out to Mclean.
To be fair, I hadn’t booked a guest room just to drop a fake hint. We had a primal date there tonight, so Lee and I were obviously going to spend the night.
“Let’s not talk about it,” I said. “I don’t want you figuring out anything else. For all you know, booking that room was a trap, and all I’m really gonna do with Franklin is have lunch with him at a restaurant where nothing can happen.”
He smiled in that obvious way that told me he was humoring me, and he sat down on the coffee table in front of me and placed his hands on my knees.
“I’m not gonna dig anymore,” he promised. “I just want you to know one thing.”
“What?”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss to my lips.
I sighed contentedly and kissed him back.
“I really loved fucking him in front of you,” he whispered. I went rigid. “Your jealousy made me so goddamn hard, Tate.”
“You…asshole!” I growled and shoved him away, nearly dropping my breakfast bowl in the process. “What the fuck, Lee!”
I couldn’t believe him! And he was laughing! That motherfucker! Holy hell, the jealousy just came rushing back, smacking into me, along with a shitload of fury that blazed through me like a wildfire.
He was gonna fucking pay for that.
Even though I was fully aware he’d said that on purpose, to piss me off, to trigger a violent reaction, and that what he’d told me had no true meaning—God, I was so goddamn angry. Button successfully pushed. Fucking bitch-ass motherfucker.
I glared at him and clenched my jaw as he headed out to the hallway and stuck his feet into his boots.
“Still wanna marry me, baby boy?”
“Fuck you,” I said. “I won’t hold back tonight, Lee. Just so we’re fucking clear.”
That killed his humor, except for a faint smirk. Other than that, only a whole lot of dark promise in his eyes.
“Good.”
Good.
Fifteen minutes before Franklin was due, I was julienning two chicken breasts and moving to the whiskey voice of Elle King. She was Lee’s “brand of brazen,” and he liked when I tinkered on songs he had in his playlists. It was kind of our thing to do on the couch—him reading and me strumming on my guitar.
Focusing on music helped me get past the sadistic stunt he’d pulled before he’d left.
He really wanted me to come at him hard with cuckolding. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said that.
With butter and garlic sizzling on high heat, I added the chicken in the skillet and then moved on to prepare the pasta. The zucchini was sliced and roasting in the oven, the kitchen bar was set for a lunch date, the wine was fantastic, and I’d tidied up the whole apartment.