Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Huh? He turns me away from him as easily as if he were handling a pillow. Then he pulls my hips back into his groin. He’s still hard. His erection nestles between the rounded cheeks of my rear end and I want to scream from the empty ache pulsing between my thighs. So close and yet so far away. He has the sexual self-control of a frigging ascetic. It’s simply astonishing. Breathing out a relaxed sigh, he buries his nose in my hair. No way can he just fall asleep like this? Right?
“Turn off the light, Cam. I have to be up by five.”
I reach up and turn off the bedside lamp, immersing the room in total darkness, while I remain immersed in unspent desire.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next day, I leave Amanda and Sam to get reacquainted while Calvin heads off to practice. Tomorrow being the season home opener, he’s laser focused on the impending game and not noticing much else. At my parents’ house, I find my father outside gardening.
“How’s your blood pressure, Dad?”
He looks up from pruning the rose bushes. “Your mother’s got me taking this slow class at the American Legion.”
“You mean qigong?”
“I don’t know what that is. I’m doing the slow exercise.”
Curling my lips between my teeth, I fight the urge to laugh ‘cause I can tell Tom is getting irritated and God forbid that DeSantis temper sparks. “I’ll be moving back in soon.” My face feels tight as I speak.
He steps away from the bushes and wipes his hands on a rag. “Feel like a beer? I feel like a beer.”
Five minutes later, we’re kicking back on the freshly painted navy Adirondack chairs, gazing out at the marvel that is my father’s green thumb.
“You outdid yourself this summer. The trellis of climbing roses is breathtaking.”
He takes a sip of his cold beer. “I’ve been meaning to plant that for the past two years. Nothing like a health scare to remind you not to waste time.”
I turn to take him in. So stoic, my father. “Were you scared?”
He turns and holds my gaze. “Of course, I was…but not for myself––for you and your mother. Who’s going to take care of my girls if I’m gone?” The side of his mouth curves up, and his soft brown eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You know you don’t have to worry about me. And Mom is much tougher than you give her credit for. All the same, we still need you…especially to referee.”
“You two disagree because you’re so alike.” Heavy skepticism is all over my face. “You’ll figure it out, eventually.” We sit for some time just enjoying each other’s company, neither one of us needing to fill it with garbage talk.
“Are you coming tomorrow? Cal gave me passes to the clubhouse and field for you.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. So––are you gonna tell him?”
I stiffen at the casual query. “Tell him what?” I ask. My father being part bloodhound, I know he won’t be so easily distracted.
He shoots me a knowing smile. “How you feel.” Apparently, how I feel is no secret––to all seven billion people who inhabit planet Earth. Dissembling is pointless.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Punkin’, take it from an old man. It’s never as complicated as you imagine it to be.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon getting my room ready. Which suddenly seems about as big as a broom closet since I’ve been living at the Ritz for the past four months. It’s early evening when I get back to Cal’s.
“Where the hell have you been?” He’s on me as soon as I step into the side door that leads to the kitchen. Like he was listening for the car to enter the garage.
“Easy there, big guy. I went to see my parents.” I place my hand on his chest, to push him away since he’s all up in my business, and fail. Mistake. Big mistake. He takes it hostage, trapping it in place, and cages me against the wall with the rest of his body parts––his very nice body parts. Then, as if he has a right to, he grabs my face and kisses me…really kisses me.
I am instantly swamped by a tidal wave of lust and longing. The longing is the bad one. I can’t entertain the lust because of it. I love this man. I am in stupid love. And because of it, I cannot let myself enjoy one minute of the desire smoldering between us. On tippy toes, I grip his t-shirt and press my hips against the steel pole hiding under his silky track pants. One big mitt leaves my face and he slips it into the back pocket of my jean shorts, pulling me even harder against him. And I. Am. Done for. My mind draws a complete blank from the heat and pleasure spreading through me.