Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
"Doesn't matter," Tenn said, his lips moving against my temple. "I love you. I think I fell for you that first night when I woke up with you on top of me."
I snorted a laugh. "That was your cock talking."
"A little, maybe." Tenn trailed a finger down my back, tracing across the swell of my hip. "Mostly, it was that I didn't want to push you off. I wanted you to stay exactly where you were even though I knew I wasn't getting laid. It only got worse from there."
A giggle snuck out. "You didn't have to wait long. I couldn't keep my hands off you. I should have known it was love. All these years of not being interested and all I wanted was to strip you naked."
Tenn rolled and I was on my back, legs spread, staring up at a devilish grin. "I'm naked now."
"Yes, you are." Reaching down between us, I wrapped my fingers around his hard cock, tilting my hips to lead him inside me. "I like you naked."
Those were the last words I managed before Tenn pinned my hands above my head and started to move. Nothing was resolved. Not really. We knew we were in love like a million idiots before us. It was the rest we had to work out. And we would. Eventually. Later. After I had my fill of naked Tenn.
A last thought drifted through my head before my mind blanked out.
If I waited until after I had my fill of Tenn, I'd never get another thing done.
I'd never have my fill of this man, but I was going to spend the rest of my life trying.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TENN
My phone in my hand, I went in search of the elusive Thatcher Hall. I had a project and questions only he could answer. I hoped. I hadn't found him with Miss Martha and the younger kids. He wasn't with Scarlett or in their sitting room reading. For an active kid who loved gaming, I'd been surprised at how often I found him buried in a book.
If he wasn't with his brother, his mom, or reading, there was only one place he could be. We might not have been BFFs, but I was getting to know the kid. I found him in the gathering room, his eyes fixed on the screen where he methodically tracked and shot alien after alien, smirking as they exploded into purple goo.
Dropping onto the couch beside him, I waited. After a second, he shot me a sidelong look. Fuck, the kid was the spitting image of his father, only a spray of freckles across his nose reminding me of Scarlett. He was just thirteen, but the promise of the man within showed clearly.
Just like Elliott, his thick hair was so dark it was almost black, falling across his forehead in a perfect swoop as if he'd spent hours in front of the mirror to get it just right. Elliott might have, but I doubted Thatcher had done more than drag a brush through it, and that at his mother's insistence.
Instead of Scarlett's green eyes, Thatcher's were an arresting arctic blue, his cheekbones, nose, and jaw sculpted like a work of art. It killed to admit it, but I could see why a teenage Scarlett had fallen head over heels for this kind of beauty. Everything I'd heard and seen about Elliott led me to think he was an idiot. In contrast, Thatcher's eyes held a wary intelligence I had to respect.
"What's up?" he said, his eyes fixed on the screen.
"I wanted to ask you about something. I can wait." I wasn't a gamer like Thatcher, but Royal and I like to unwind with Madden or FIFA. I knew all about waiting until it was a good time to take a break. Thatcher grunted his assent and went back to his mission, clearing the level with a precision that told me this wasn't his first go-round.
I split my time between watching him and watching the screen. He was good, but I'd expect that of any gamer his age. I was a little surprised at his planning and tactics. He didn't rush through, blasting with the highest-powered weapon he could get his hands on. He switched seamlessly between weapons and methods of attack, the sides of his mouth curving up as he demolished the final boss.
Tossing the controller to the cushion beside him, he said, "You play this one?"
"No, FIFA's my game."
A wide grin split Thatcher's face, his mother coming into focus in that smile. "I kill at FIFA. I'll destroy you."
"Probably," I agreed. "Do you have a sec?"
Thatcher leaned back, the smile dropping off his face, guard up. "Sure, I guess."
The nerves swirling in my gut knocked me off-kilter as I pulled up my tablet. I hadn't spent any time with Thatcher on my own. I understood his reserve, even approved, but it was terrifying. If this kid decided he hated me, all my plans would go up in smoke. He was too smart to bribe or manipulate, not that I'd do either anyway.