Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I want to kiss you,” I say, waiting to see if she says or does anything, and when her eyes only widen, I continue. “I want to take you into my arms, put my hands on your face, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of you.”
“Oh, my,” she says, “I think I need water.”
“I want to sit with you and learn everything about you. I don’t care what you wear.” I lean in, and her breath hitches, and her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “Although I have to say that seeing you wear my clothes is putting me in a very difficult position.” I look down at my cock that has been rock hard since I sat down next to her and she put my sweater on. Her eyes move down, and she must see my outline because she leans forward again.
“More water,” she says, drinking. “Definitely need more water.”
“We both have a past,” I say. “How do you know I’m not ashamed of the shit I’ve done or what has happened to me? How do you know that we might have a bit more in common than you think?”
She puts her glass of water down and takes a deep breath. “My cell phone got cut off yesterday,” she says and doesn’t stop talking. “To top it all off, my scumbag of an ex stole my kid’s hockey stuff and pawned it, and now they want two hundred dollars.”
I don’t think I can hear anything more without wanting to flip the table over and go hunt down her ex. “Tonight, you take my phone,” I say, and she shakes her head.
“I’m not taking your phone,” she huffs. “I’m just pointing out how different our lives are.”
“What if you need to call 911?” I ask, and then I play dirty. “What if something happens to Dylan, and you can’t call for help?” I take my own glass of water, and I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand. I’m so angry about what she just told me. I take a sip of the ice-cold water, but it’s hard to swallow. “And fuck the equipment. We got him a spare bag.”
“But you shouldn’t have to pay for that,” she says.
“Neither should you,” I say. She’s about to argue with me when the door opens, and Dylan comes skipping back into the room.
“Mom, there is a guy, and he tosses the pizza into the sky.” He mimics tossing a pizza in the air with his arms. “Then he catches it.”
“Really?” she says, and he climbs into the chair next to me.
“And Lara let me make my own pizza,” he says. “I did a meat lover’s because I need some meat on these bones.” He slaps his stomach, and we both laugh. I look over at her and see her eyes glistening with tears, but for once, I don’t think they’re sad tears.
Chapter Sixteen
Caroline
My head is spinning for a couple of reasons. I’m sure the wine is playing a part in it, but his words are making it spin more. Dylan is going on and on about something with Justin, and the only thing I can hear in my head is I want to kiss you. It doesn’t help that his smell is all around me because of his ginormous sweater. I had to roll the sleeves just to get them over my hands.
I pick up my wine by accident and take a sip, putting it down and then looking over at Justin who just smirks. “If you really want to sleep over, sweetheart …”
“It was an accident,” I say and then pick up the glass of water and finish the whole thing. “I need more water.”
“Do you now?” He smiles, and Lara comes in with a tray and places it in the middle of the table.
“This are just little samples,” she says. I look at the tray of what she calls “little samples,” and it’s enough food to last a week. “Little meatballs, garlic bread, calamari, bruschetta, sausage and rapini and arugula salad.” She smiles and puts down a stack of white plates in front of me.
“I want meatballs,” Dylan says. “And the sausage.” He looks at Justin and scrunches his nose. “No green stuff.”
Lara throws her head back and laughs. “Is there anything specific you want to eat for the main?”
“The main?” I ask, and then look at Justin, leaning in. “What does she mean by that?”
“I think a couple of pizzas and maybe a penne vodka and a spaghetti would be good,” he tells her, and she smiles and nods at us.
“Did you just order more food?” I ask Justin, who is already filling a plate for Dylan and then putting a bit of everything on one for me.
He puts the plate down in front of me and the smell of garlic and tomatoes hits my nose right away, making my mouth water. “Eat, sweetheart,” he says softly, and my stomach feels like it just did a wave. No one has ever called me that.