Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Of a block in my head?” she says, laughing softly.
“You can say anything in person you’d say in a text.”
She nods, then asks, “Do you want a drink or something?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “A water’s fine.”
She gestures through the open-plan apartment to the living room. “Make yourself at home.”
The apartment is a little rundown, but it’s neat and clean, and clearly, some effort has gone into decorating. Rugs crisscross on the floor, and photos hang on the walls.
I wander over to one of Della, Hudson, and presumably her parents.
Della’s a little kid here, all gap-toothed smiling.
“How old were you?” I ask when I hear her walking up behind me.
“Six. That was after we went bowling. See the lights in the background? Dad gave a homeless man some money, and he offered to do it when he saw us trying to take the photo.”
I turn, taking the glass of water, our hands brushing. Electricity sparks up my arm, the touch making it difficult to focus on anything else.
“Good memories,” I say.
She smiles shakily. “Yeah, they are. I should think about those times more.”
We sit on the couch, Della turning toward me.
Her dress isn’t low-cut, but it’s enough to get my body stirring even more. She folds her leg over, highlighting her juicy perfection.
I almost lose it when she brushes her hair from her face. There’s something so intoxicatingly feminine about it.
“I hope the drive here was okay,” she murmurs, then laughs delicately. “Sorry, I’ve never done date talk before.”
I smirk. “Neither have I.”
She blinks. “Really?”
“Really,” I say. “I meant what I said. I’ve never felt this way about anyone except for you.”
“That sounds like a line,” she murmurs.
I touch her chin and direct her gaze back to me as she stares down. “I swear, Della, I swear on everything…none of this, not one bit, is a line.”
She reaches up and touches my hand.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I tell her. “That dress is giving me all sorts of ideas.”
“Pfft,” she says. “It feels like a maternity dress.”
I know what she’s doing—deflecting the compliment and making a comment about her size as a way to diffuse it.
“No,” I say gruffly. “It’s just the right fit. I meant what I said when we were texting. Your body is curvy in all the best ways.”
In the back of my head, the word maternity bounces around.
I know I may be pushing too fast, but I can’t stop myself.
“Speaking of maternity….”
“Do I want kids?” she says, reading me, her eyes getting emotional like they did in my office during our first almost-kiss.
It’s like she can sense the magnitude of the question like she knows I’m not just asking her for the sake of it.
“Yes,” she says after a pause, still with that emotional look on her face. “I do. I always have. Jess…she used to make fun of me for this, but…but fuck her.”
Della sits up straighter, causing pride to expand in me, to fill me up.
“Fuck her,” I agree fiercely.
“I always thought – think – well, if I find the right man and he wants to have kids when I’m young, what’s wrong with that? And if I want a house filled with children, maybe three or four or even five, is there an issue there?”
“I don’t think there is,” I say, my voice getting husky, my whole body tensing at the thought. “If you find a man who wants to support you, who has the money and the desire to do it…you can still pursue your career. You can do anything you want.”
“Eli,” she whispers.
We’re leaning close again, her taste, her scent, her everything beckoning me.
We kiss hard, my hand moving to her leg, unable to stop when I feel her bare flesh against my palm.
She’s hot, physically scorching, as though her lust is pressing through her skin, making her gorgeous legs even more inviting.
Our tongues clash as I slide my hand higher, higher, as I feel her virgin pussy beckoning to me.
“Wait,” she moans, breaking the kiss off, but staying close, her breath brushing over me.
I think she’s going to tell me to stop, but instead, she nods across the room.
“My – uh – my bedroom is over there. But….”
She doesn’t have to finish.
“We don’t have to go all the way, not tonight,” I say, even as my shaft aches, my helm bursts with urgent precome. “But I want to touch you, to taste you. I want to watch you cream for me in real life, Della. It’ll be so much sexier than the video.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, though,” she whispers as I slide my hand between her legs, holding my palm there, inches from her pussy.
She’s wet and warm. It’s like I can already feel her lips, her horny clit.
“Neither do I,” I say gruffly.
“You sounded like you did. In the texts, I mean….”