Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Fine, I’ll pay you back in another way.” His nostrils flare, eyes darkening with wicked desire.
“The only way I’ll take your form of payment is with your thighs spread wide, my face buried between them for a starter, finally getting a taste of what I know will be the sweetest fucking flavor I’ve ever had on my tongue. My cock buried inside your pussy. And one day, I’ll take your ass, too, Josie. I’m going to own every inch of you.” Trace stalks back to where I’m standing, hand wrapped around the can of soda, palms sweaty, core clenching, wanting everything he laid out, and so much more. This thing I’ve been fighting between us since I was a teenager is gone. There’s no reason to deny it. Trace is right. What we did was wrong, but Wes has moved on. There’s nothing in some weird handbook that says we can’t have our own relationship.
“You forgot one very important part of the equation.” My chest is heaving. One orgasm wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough when Trace’s presence swallows me whole whenever he’s near.
“What’s that?” He’s on one side of the peninsula. I’m on the other.
“My mouth. If you get my ass, it’s only fair I get to suck you off.” I find the words, watching as my sentence reaches him completely.
“Jesus, woman. Five foot some odd inches, all sass and ass. And fuck me, I’ve met my match. I’m going to check on the steps. If I get any closer to you, I’ll have you on your knees and those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my cock.” Point, set, match. Trace leaves the kitchen and walks out the door with a slow gait. It does nothing to persuade me from not following him. The back is just as good as the front. Trace’s strong, broad shoulders and ass that I can imagine digging my heels into while my fingers press into his muscles.
I spin the tablet around, getting a look at the designs he set up, knowing which plan I’m going after, hopeful I’m not making the wrong decision. I like the layout I have now, just, you know, in better working condition. Plus, this gives me a moment to regain my composure, calm these damn rampant hormones, even when there’s this huge part of me that wants to say screw it, drag Trace back inside the house, and do exactly what we both want. I push the tablet away, finish my soda, then mosey toward the front door. There’s nothing else for me to do inside. The laundry is still going, and unpacking any more would be dumb considering what I’m hoping will happen soon. The thought of not having a kitchen kind of freaks me out.
“Trace, I have a question.” I open the door. He’s not on the porch or by the front steps. My eyes zero in on his truck parked along the curb. “Where is he?” I mumble to myself, still not finding him while I’m walking down the front porch steps, careful not to hit the stupid step that is another bane of my existence. The closing of a metal door scares me. A squeak leaves me before I’m able to cover my mouth. Jesus, why am I so jumpy lately? Trace rounds the hood of his truck, a truck that looks familiar.
“Babe, you okay?” he asks from a few feet away.
“Yeah, I had a question.” I see he’s got a power tool in one hand and a few screws in the other.
“Watcha got? I won’t be able to fix the step completely. No wood, but I can sturdy it out a bit with longer screws until I come back tomorrow.” My eyes move from his to his truck, sure that I’ve seen it in the past few days, yet I can’t place it.
“That’s okay. There’s no rush. Uh, the kitchen, how long do you think it will take?” We walk back toward the front porch.
“I’ll be here tomorrow morning. I’ve got to get my crew started in the morning, then I’ll be over to fix the front steps.” He drops down to the damn step that almost had me breaking my arm, well, not really, but you get the idea. “I’ve got to see what’s on the books. Should be able to swing by this weekend and start on the kitchen then.” Trace doing the demolishing, seeing his muscular body dripping with sweat, boy, would that be a view. Enough to make me rethink working in my office when the project gets started.
“So fast? I figured it’d be at least a couple of months out before you even got started.”
“Nope, the project is small. The only thing that will hold us up will be the countertops, and as long as you don’t want something crazy, it shouldn’t take that long.” He puts a screw between his lips, a look on a man I’d have never thought was sexy as hell. Trace motherfreaking Gaines. He does it all, has it all, and lucky me, it looks like I’m going to get every inch of him, too.