Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
For starters, she taught him how to walk away rather than doing something he’d regret, something that would form him into a different man. She didn’t know she did it, but she did.
She also taught him, if you give it just a little time, something good will slide in after the bad. Back then, it was her following him, coaxing him out of his shit mood and making him laugh.
Today, it was coming home to her.
“I’m cooking,” she announced.
“I can smell,” he said.
“No healthy living mojo tonight, honey. I scored a new client today. We’re celebrating,” she shared as he made his way to her.
“Fantastic,” he muttered, getting smack in her space, sliding a hand from her hip to the small of her back and jerking her into his body.
When she collided, her tawny eyes fired in a way that also made him fight a hard-on, and she put her hands to his pecs.
“I should get you a club so you can drag it around and everyone will be warned of your neanderthal tendencies,” she remarked.
He smiled at her.
She watched his lips do it, and she knew the score when she did that shit.
So he bent his head and took her mouth.
She was ass to the counter, he was between her legs, and her eyes were foggy just the way he liked them when he finally ended their make-out session.
“Congrats on the new client,” he said.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
He smiled at her again, kissed her throat then pulled her off the counter.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Baked potatoes. I’m trying this new way of doing them. It’s supposed to create the perfect potato. Also filet mignon. And sauteed mushrooms and haricots verts. Oh! And rolls. To finish, I grabbed some napoleons from Pasquinis for dessert.”
“Jesus, with all that in my gut, I’m not gonna be able to fuck you tonight.”
She shot him a look. “I’ve got practice with over imbibing. I’ll take top.”
Her saying that meant she absolutely would not. He’d find a way to rally.
She pulled out a cast-iron grill pan and put it on the stove. “Will you grill the steaks? We’re almost good to go.”
“You got it, baby,” he murmured, turning to the steaks that were already on the counter, room temperature, salted and doused in Worcestershire sauce.
They both lived full lives, work and social.
But they had a lot of times like these.
Cooking together. Doing the dishes together. Walking down the street to Wynkoop’s, hanging and sharing a couple of beers together.
They fought. This was him and Ava. Their spark never blinked out and it manifested itself in a variety of ways.
But he loved fighting with her, and not just because he loved how they made up.
There was history. There was passion. There was fire. Even in the quiet times like now, it simmered below the surface, ready to blaze however that came about between them.
He loved it. Got off on it. Fed from it.
It was going to be a good life with her. No other woman existed who could give him that. What he needed to keep his shit in line. What he needed to be the man he wanted to be. What he needed to be the man he had to be for her.
But he waited until after she loaded him down with a gut busting amount of delicious food (and whatever recipe she found did not lie, those baked potatoes were the best he’d had). After they sorted out the kitchen. But it was before she unearthed the napoleons when he guided her to the couch, sat in it, and then pulled her to straddle his lap.
“Oh boy. Looking at your face, I’m not thinking this is a lead in to hanky-panky,” she noted.
His brows went up.
Christ, his woman.
“Hanky-panky?”
“Sex,” she explained something he already knew.
“I know, babe. But I fuck. We fuck. We do not engage in hanky-panky.”
“My word choice wasn’t a hit to your manhood, Luke.”
“You referring to it as hanky-panky, I may never get it up again,” he joked.
She made a face and replied, “Oh my God. You’d turn into Lukezilla and take out half of Denver if you went even a day without getting the business.”
“Correct,” he confirmed, then advised. “Don’t forget that.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips were tipped up.
“Babe.”
She stopped rolling her eyes, and he knew she’d read his change in tone when they landed on him.
So her hands landed on him too, at both sides of his neck. “Oh God, Luke. What’s the matter?”
Total concern. It was in her face, the line of her body, the feel of her gaze, everything about her.
He gripped her hips harder where he had hold on her. Then he took one hand and slid it along the side of her neck to curl it around the back.
“I got somethin’ to share.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”