Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Eggs…come…it’s all protein, right?”
He slid his hand down my back and gripped my ass cheek. “Get your ass on a stool before you make me take it right here.”
“You’re not very good at threats, are you?”
“That wasn’t a threat.” And the way he said it, I knew he was being serious.
“Well, as much as I want that right now, I do need to eat a little bit.”
“That’s what I figured,” he said, his smile assuring me he enjoyed his victory in our little game of chicken.
“I just need to make some coffee.”
“I’ve got that. You just go sit down.”
I obeyed his orders. “Yes, sir. Bossy Bottom. Don’t worry, though. You’re very good at topping too, but I’m just making sure to give credit where it’s due.”
I slid onto a stool on the other side of the bar and pulled one of the plates close to me.
“I told you. I’m good at everything.”
I rolled my eyes. “When we first met, I thought you were being conceited when you said shit like that.”
“What’s changed?” he asked as he made himself at home, grabbing a coffee mug from my cabinet.
“I guess I can see why you’re so confident. You’re not afraid of trying out new things. Most people hesitate and freak out about that kind of shit, but you dive right on in. And even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re a real fast learner.”
As I talked to him, he filled the coffee mug with the coffee machine.
“I’m glad you’re starting to realize how amazing I am,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, Jesus. I’m officially done complimenting you…at least through breakfast.”
“Who says I’m going to stay longer?”
He approached the bar and set the mug beside my plate before walking around and sitting on the stool beside me.
“I was surprised you actually stayed the night.”
“Me, too, really. I was kinda surprised you asked.”
“I didn’t want you to feel like I was just trying to get my rocks off. I mean, not on your first time.”
“And what a first time it was.” His smile expanded, as did my hard-on. His eyes narrowed. “So, what was your first time like?”
I picked up a fork by my plate and picked at the omelet. “Not the most amazing experience. I was trying to get it done, I guess. I met a hot guy at a frat party, but the moment he did the deed, he freaked out on me and bailed. I’d see him around school a little after that, but he’d never look me in the eyes. Guy was obviously still struggling with who he was, and I get that.”
“That’s still a shitty way to experience it your first time.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”
“Awww. You wanted me to stay over so I wouldn’t feel all used and gross?”
“Shut up.”
But it was kind of true. I didn’t want him to feel like what he’d done was dirty or wrong…like he needed to get the fuck out. As I’d learned, that was no way to share that experience with someone.
He put his hand on the back of my head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone how much you like me.”
Once again, before I had a chance to reply, he kissed me—a greedy, tongue-filled kiss. Like he just wanted to claim my mouth with his. He kept his hand on the back of my head, running his thumb through my hair.
When he pulled away, he said, “Now hurry up and eat or I’m going to give you something else to stick in that pretty mouth of yours.”
I chuckled before turning back to the breakfast he’d made me.
“So, what’s in this?”
“You had some chicken and jalapenos, so I grabbed a few things here and there, put it together—voila.”
“Voila? Well, merci beaucoup. The service at this restaurant is fabulous.”
I took a bite, and the taste of cheese and jalapenos overtook my mouth in a delicious combo. He’d clearly used a little red pepper too—just the right amount. As I turned to him and saw him grinning, I could tell he knew that without me even having to say anything.
“Amazing, right? You can admit it.”
“I said no more compliments until after breakfast.”
“Well, then I guess you don’t get to have my incredible omelet.” He reached for my plate, but I leaned forward, guarding it.
“No, no. It’s great. It’s exactly what I would expect from an Ethan Harris original.”
As he beamed with delight, I enjoyed knowing that all the praise was kind of getting to his head that morning.
I took another bite out of my omelet.
Damn, it was good.
We ate together for a few minutes, glancing at each other occasionally, smirks on our faces as if we were fucking teenagers who’d just figured out what the fuck sex was. It seemed so stupid and childish and so fun, all at the same time.