Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
His mouth dropped open.
“Then why were you still with him?” He blurted in surprise. “And why the hell did you flip the fuck out and fuck his car up…and him?”
“I don’t really know,” I confessed. “He felt…safe. We didn’t do it all that often, and now that I know why, it’s not as soothing as it once had been. Danny and I were really good friends before he asked me out, and it’s hard to lose ten years of friendship.”
“So you stayed with him out of obligation, and because you didn’t want to lose his friendship,” he rumbled.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
He gave me a look.
“Why’d he do this to you? Treat you like that? Take all your things when he left?” He pushed. “You’re not telling me everything.”
I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell him the next part.
“I wanted to get married, to have kids,” I finally explained. “Lots of them. I’m already pushing thirty. He just seemed like my safest bet to get that.”
Something flashed in his eyes so fast that I couldn’t read it before it was gone, but it definitely had me intrigued.
“My cock’s considered large. And on a scale of large cocks, it’s on the larger side,” he changed the subject.
My eyes flicked to his lap again, but the blanket was still in the way.
His chuckle brought my eyes back to his.
“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “But you can’t just say something like that and not expect me to look.”
His smile had flutters erupting in my belly.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” he said. “I win.”
I looked down at the cards between us, all of which were now on Drew’s side of the invisible line, and I cursed.
“Cheater.”
He shrugged. “I’m older and know more tricks. Cheating in cards is relative. It’s more like knowing all the ways to play the game.”
Chapter 8
Why bother spraying Febreeze after you shit? All it does is make it smell like shitrus, not citrus.
-Text from Aspen to Naomi
Drew
So the nights at Aspen’s house continued.
We were on day six of our fucked up winter storm.
I’d worked a double shift the two nights before, and today was the first time I’d seen her in nearly fifty hours.
I felt like a fucking juvenile. All I could think about was if Aspen was warm enough, or if she was keeping herself well entertained.
Then I’d pulled into my driveway to see a massive snowman in her yard the size of which I’d never seen in Texas.
The sign on the front of the massive snowman said, ‘Do you want to build a snowman?’
I’d laughed all the way up her driveway, and when she opened the door and I’d smelled the bacon cooking, I’d come inside and hadn’t left since.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Aspen asked, egging me on.
I lifted my beer, the ninth or the tenth, and stopped when I realized it was empty.
“You want the truth?” I asked.
“We are playing truth or dare,” she said, laughter filling her voice.
I shrugged.
“I was in college,” I said, apologizing ahead of time for what I was about to tell her.
“Okay…” she said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye before taking another swig of her bottle.
She passed it over to me, and I took a drink of her wine.
“I thought you said you weren’t allowed to have alcohol,” I said after I took a long swig.
“I’m not.” She took another swig. “But it’s either I drink, or I run away. I think drinking is the better end of the spectrum.”
I didn’t argue with her. I just hoped they didn’t randomly show up and test her.
That would suck.
Aspen giggled, causing my gut to clench even more tightly than it had been throughout the day.
God, the way she laughed, so uninhibited, was so sexy.
In fact, the woman had a way of making me feel things I’d never experienced before in all my forty-two years of life.
Just by laughing.
“When I was in college, my roommate used to always come in and steal my stuff. Nothing was sacred. My clothes. My shoes. My food. My deodorant.” I took another swig of the wine and passed it back. “Then, one day, I came in to half of my tube of toothpaste gone and I just…snapped.”
Her eyes widened so far that it was almost comical.
“What did you do?” She pushed.
I closed my eyes.
“Did you just blush?” She asked.
I started to laugh.
“I’m not proud of myself,” I admitted. “Now that I’m a firefighter, I realize how terrible bodily fluids are to share, but then…” I shook my head. “I was well and truly pissed, so I masturbated into a Ziploc bag and then squeezed it all into the toothpaste tube.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You didn’t,” she said, almost sounding envious.
I nodded again.
“I did,” I winced. “And I felt terrible about it after it was all said and done,” I told her. “I forgot about the toothpaste, having put it in a drawer and never looked back at it again,” I smiled slightly at the memory. “Then one day I happened to glance in the drawer to find it nearly all the way gone, and I wrote my roommate a note.”