Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Then again, he knew what I looked like in lingerie.
My cheeks warmed at the memory.
Rowan’s lips brushed the side of my mouth as he handed me a glass of wine. “Love that you still blush after I’ve seen you come hard and hot, after my cum has decorated that perfect skin.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I clutched the stem of the wine glass so hard I was surprised it didn’t snap in half. My knees almost buckled, and my chest heaved. Literally fucking heaved.
I didn’t know what to say to that. What did someone say to that?
I didn’t know, so I focused on doing what I could to keep standing and breathing.
Rowan lingered much too close for much too long, but I was very disappointed when he stepped back.
I looked from him to Maggie. “So… if we’re not going out for dinner, I can whip us up something to eat,” I suggested, my voice still breathy and thin.
Rowan tipped his chin as he assessed me. “I have a feeling that you’re always looking after people when they come here.”
I shrugged. “Well, it is my house.”
“It is,” he agreed, nodding and walking into the kitchen. “But I also have a feeling you rarely find yourself in situations where someone else is looking after you. Feeding you.”
A pleasurable ache formed between my legs.
“Feeding you.”
Of course, he was talking about food.
Except he wasn’t. I could see from the way his lip curled upward, his eyes flickering with the hunger I’d seen in my bedroom.
“I, um…” I cleared my throat. “I haven’t had the occasion to have people… feeding me.”
Rowan continued staring at me, this time with a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “Yeah, well, consider this the occasion.” He looked to my fridge. “Am I gonna get in trouble for touching anything sacred in this kitchen?”
I let out a chuckle. “Why would you be in trouble?”
Rowan opened my fridge door, motioning to the organized shelves. “Never seen a fridge like this before, cupcake. I’m afraid you might chop off an appendage or somethin’ if I put stuff back in the wrong place.
My lips stretched up in a smile. He was teasing, but he was doing it good-naturedly. Warmly.
“I like things a certain way, including all of your appendages.” I hid behind my hands for a moment, realizing what I’d said. I swallowed my embarrassment then continued. “But I promise, I’m not going to punish you for not adhering to my slightly eccentric organization method.”
His eyes flared. “I’ve got a feeling being punished by you is something that I’d enjoy very much.”
My pussy throbbed with need even though I knew my body wouldn’t be able to handle another orgasm. Okay, my body definitely could. My overstimulated mind on the other hand? No. I needed time to process.
We stared at each other for a handful of seconds before Rowan broke the spell between us.
“You got a book you’ve been wanting to read or a show you haven’t had time to start watching?”
I blinked at the change of subject before I got my bearings. “Um, I have multiple shows and books that have been put on the backburner.”
Though I enjoyed binging TV shows, and starting and finishing a book in one sitting, I’d been doing that less and less these days. My days were busy because I made them busy. Less time to be idle meant less time to overthink and convince myself I was suffering from whatever condition it was that time.
I hadn’t suffered from anything but whatever the female version of blue balls was since Rowan had come into my life.
“Not that cowboy show, though,” he said. “We’re gonna watch that together. From the start.”
I gaped at him. “You mean Yellowstone?” Dumfounded that he remembered my blithering episode about Rip and Kacey and Beth.
He nodded.
He wanted to watch Yellowstone with me. Again, considering what we’d just done upstairs, this shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did. But there was something domestic, permanent about watching a show together. Maybe not as romantic as whatever romantic gestures existed before the advent of streaming on demand, but it was to me.
“Go watch or read,” Rowan ordered, arching his head to the sofa. “Let me cook for you.”
Unable to argue with the man, I went and did what he ordered.
Maggie dutifully followed me.
I was certain after I curled up on the sofa, with Maggie lying against my legs and Rowan clanging away in the kitchen, that I would not be able to concentrate on the show I switched on.
But somehow, I did.
Rowan made spicy vodka pasta.
It was incredible.
I had two bowls of it, without feeling self-conscious that I was supposed to act demure and nibble at my food or whatever. Nathan had ordered salad for me whenever we went out, would scowl in disapproval whenever I ordered dessert. Although it stung, I never called him out like I should’ve. But I also didn’t cancel the dessert order. I was comfortable with my body. I was never going to be the woman who wore a size zero, or even a size six. That wasn’t how I was designed. I had curves. My stomach would never be completely flat, my hips would always be wide. I would always like sugar and wine, and I despised most forms of exercise. Nathan had known all of that when we got together.