Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
After changing my clothes, I opened the bedroom door, stood there, and just listened. The only thing I could hear was a clock ticking in the distance. All the lights were off, the morning sun illuminating what I could see in the living room, as well as a little bit of the hallway. I stepped out and my bare toes kicked something on the ground. I looked down and saw my favorite candy bar sitting there.
I nearly cried.
He’d gotten it for me when he’d gone to the store.
I bent down, picked it up, and saw some writing on the white package.
These always made you feel better, and I think right now you could really use some cheering up.
Beckham had written that? He felt that way? It seemed like the old him, the man I’d grown up with, the man I fell in love with. But it didn’t seem like the man from six months ago.
I didn’t want to think too deeply on any of that.
I set the chocolate bar on the nightstand and headed to the bathroom, putting on a little makeup before storing my stuff and going into the kitchen. What I wanted was a big cup of coffee to help me wake up and get my day started, to help me get the motivation to start looking for work. As I saw the coffee machine, I told myself, fuck it, and went over to it to start making a pot.
As the coffee brewed, I leaned against the counter and stared out the window. The kitchen and dining room were all one large area, with a decent-sized picture window right in front of the table. The blinds were open slightly, and I could see the neighborhood through them, a woman walking her dog, two elderly ladies speed-walking in nearly identical track suits.
It didn’t take much time for the scent of coffee to fill the kitchen, and I grabbed a mug and poured myself some, filling it to the brim. I opened up the fridge, hoping he had half-and-half or at least milk. The latter was all I found, so I opened it and put a little splash in, found the sugar and added a couple spoonsful, then leaned against the counter again and took that first heavenly drink.
I went back to staring out the window. In this moment, where it was just me, the silence stretching out, I felt peaceful, almost at rest. But that was short-lived when I heard a rustling from down the hallway, then a door opening, then heavy footsteps coming closer.
Instinctually, my body straightened, tightened. I cupped the coffee mug in both hands, felt the warmth through the ceramic, the heat coming through. And then I saw Beckham walk around the corner, his focus on the ground as he ran his hand over the back of his head, slightly messing up the short dark strands.
My heart jumped into my throat at the fact that he only wore a pair of gray sweats and nothing else.
His chest was on full display, toned and defined, hairless and so masculine.
And then my gaze dipped down to his crotch before I could stop myself. I could see the very defined outline of what he sported behind that cotton, and even though he wasn’t aroused, his dick was incredibly impressive.
Oh, God.
I felt my entire body heat, flushing. I looked away, because I knew my face had to be red. My heart was racing, my palms starting to sweat, which had nothing to do with the fact that I held a hot cup of coffee.
He glanced up, and I could see he was startled by my presence. He stopped, both of us just staring at the other, that thickness I felt yesterday increasing.
“Hey,” he said in a deep voice.
I forced myself not to keep checking him out. It was the last thing I needed on my mind. “Good morning,” I said softly, maybe too softly to sound normal. I cleared my throat and gestured to the coffee machine. “I hope it’s okay. I made a pot.”
He gave me a crooked smile, and I felt my heart jump to my throat. “Lenora, you’re welcome to use anything here. You’re staying in the house, so what’s mine is yours, okay?” He smiled again. “You’re hungry—grab whatever you want. You’re thirsty—drink the last beer in the fridge. Hell, you want to bake a cake at midnight, have at it.”
I actually felt myself chuckle at the last part. “Bake a cake? When have you ever known me to not burn something?”
He started laughing and lifted his hand again to rub the back of his head, giving me a half shrug. “True, but I guess my point is, you’re staying here, so this is your home now too.”
I didn’t know how I felt or how I was supposed to feel at hearing him say that, but the truth was it had electricity moving through my body. In this one moment, it felt like how we used to be.