Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I knew my place here was temporary, but a part of me just had to see that space transformed before I had to leave.
I attacked the weeds with gusto, feeling dirt clinging to damn near every inch of me as I worked, and I tried to ignore it even as every fiber of my being wanted to go inside and shower.
Because not long after I went outside, I heard Emilio’s telltale whistle as he came in. It had started as a way not to startle me, but now was just his thing. And, damnit, I liked it. Even as I was determined not to be anymore enamored with the man, I felt a smile tug at my lips.
Then ripped out a particularly well-rooted vining weed with a lot more force than necessary, all but falling on my ass in the process.
I could feel his gaze on me as I worked, and kind of looked out of the corner of my eye at one point to find him standing in the kitchen, eating his pizza, his brows drawn together, like there was something confusing about me right then.
I guess there was.
I always greeted him.
Had dinner with him.
But, well, if he confronted me, I could just claim that I was trying to get as much of the work done as possible before the rain that had been threatening to downpour for the past few hours.
Eventually, he moved out of the kitchen. And, well, I was kind of on a roll now that I’d seen some progress, so I just kept going, even after the rain did start to pelt down on me, big, fat drops that had the dirt clinging even more to me, creating a muddy mess.
It was really pouring on me when I decided to just finish this one back corner before I went in, deciding that I couldn’t exactly get wetter or dirtier, so who cared.
And I’d just reached for a pile of collected garbage when I heard a noise.
A high, whiney, objection.
Then another.
“Oh, oh no!” I squeaked, seeing the two tiny, soaked kittens backed up against the brick wall of the garden. “Oh, hey, hey babies,” I said, reaching out toward them, getting little hisses, feline attempts to scare off the big, bad human.
But the first one didn’t swipe at me as I closed a hand around it, finding it was nothing but skin and bones.
“Oh, you poor babies. Where has your mama been?” I said, feeling a little teary-eyed as I reached for the second one, tucking them up under my shirt.
Then, without thinking, I rushed into the house, barely remembering to kick off my muddy shoes before I trekked filth everywhere.
“Hey, are you okay?” Emilio called as I barreled up the stairs.
No.
Nope.
I was smuggling kittens into his house.
I was clearly mental.
“Bug. There was a bug crawling on me!” I yelled, rushing into my room, locking the door, then ran into the bathroom, where I threw my laundry into the tub, and put the kittens on top for a moment as I stripped out of my wet clothes, changed, then started to dry them.
“I know. I’m so sorry, little babies. I’m gonna have to get some milk for you, right?” I said, looking at their pathetic little faces. “I’m gonna go do that. Now you need to be really, really quiet while I’m gone so we don’t get evicted, okay?” I said.
But I went ahead and turned on the TV kind of loud before I made my way back out and downstairs.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Emilio asked, standing in the doorway to the living room, worry etched between his brows.
“Oh, ah, you know, um, girl stuff,” I said, hoping he would be suitably horrified at the mention of emergency period supplies and leave me alone.
When I got back home he was, luckily, back in his study, leaving me in peace to rush upstairs and figure out the whole formula feeding situation.
It was wrong.
This wasn’t my house.
But they were cold, wet, and hungry.
The least I could do was take care of them for the night.
And maybe the next day.
And just possibly the day after that…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emilio
“Fuck,” I hissed at my reflection, trying not to let my gaze wander to the tub behind me, to the memory of her inside of it, naked, the swells of her breasts just barely visible above the water, her hand between her thigh, her little whimpers and moans as she drove herself up.
I had been in a rush that day, not even noticing that Avery was home, let alone in my bathroom, using the tub I had offered.
Until it was too late.
Until I’d seen too much.
Until my cock was rock-hard in my pants.
Then I did the most fucked up thing.
Reaching in, taking it out, and stroking it while she drove herself up and through an orgasm, taking me with her.