Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
It was time to take us there.
I arched into him.
And Cap stopped kissing me.
He uncurled his fingers from my breast, touched his lips to my nose, my forehead, then down to my chest before he put his lips to mine, and said, “Not tonight, baby.”
“Why?” I whispered, still pressing into him.
“Because this weekend has been a lot for you.”
“I know. So?”
“So, when it happens, I want you to be past that extreme and all about us.”
Shit.
He made sense.
“I hate it that that makes sense.”
He chuckled, touched his mouth to mine briefly, and said, “I hate it too, honey. But I’m right.”
He was.
Us connecting in that way was important. It was a huge step in what we were building.
It had to be all about us.
Ugh.
He slid off me, rolled me so my back was to his front, then he lifted his knees, taking mine with his, and tucked me tight to his body with his arm around me.
God, he could work a spoon too.
This man.
Yum.
“I’m glad you were there through it,” I said into the dark.
“I am too.”
“I miss Cleo,” I went on.
“Me too.”
I knew what I wanted to say next, I just didn’t know whether or not it would freak him.
Then I thought, if Martha hadn’t, and Dream hadn’t, and well, I hadn’t, then this wouldn’t.
“Did you pack enough clothes in that backpack to get you through sleepovers for the next week?” I asked.
He started laughing and through it said, “No.” He then shifted so he could kiss my neck, and in my ear, he said, “But I’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
I relaxed into him.
“Go to sleep,” he ordered.
“Okay,” I mumbled, the entirety of the last few days rushing in all at once, making me suddenly sleepy when I was anything but two minutes ago.
Cap pulled me closer.
I sprinted toward dreamland.
I was catapulted out of it when he said into the back of my hair, “The extreme of the last few days saved you from our talk about what’s on your wall, baby. But just so you know, we’re gonna get to that soon.”
Well…
Great.
Just…
Great.
ELEVEN
ONE OF A KIND
My alarm sounded (meditation music, Cap was probably going to hate that).
But I woke to an empty bed, so he didn’t hear it.
I turned and saw a note on his pillow.
I picked it up and read, Out for a run, baby.
I didn’t like waking up without him, but at least he didn’t hear my wake-up music.
I told Alexa to quit it with the music, got out of bed making a mental note to program a musical change for tomorrow, did the prelims of my morning thing, including having a shower, and I was sitting in my robe and some panties at my bar with my laptop and a mug o’ joe when Cap came in the front door.
He was wearing some drawstring running shorts, running shoes, nothing else and was slicked with sweat.
Lord.
Well, that explained the tan.
“I think I slept off my extreme,” I informed him. “Can our first time be me jumping you on my living room rug?”
He grinned, walked to me, and I took it as a promising sign when he gently fisted my hair, pulled my head back and laid a lot-of-tongue wet one on me.
Alas, he pulled away and answered, “No.”
“Bluh,” I replied.
He grinned again, let me go and looked at my laptop. “What are you up to?”
“My morning scan of the Republic and checking emails. Are you allergic to cats?”
“No.”
“Do you like cats?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have an issue if I say yes to Jenn’s cat coming for a visit? She has to head home because her mom is having hip replacement surgery. I can pop over for feedings and stuff, but Patches likes company.”
He’d met Jenn at the shindig. She was a tenant, upper level, across from me, but down a few doors.
“Sure,” he replied, then his head tilted to the side. “Is this a paying gig?”
“Jenn leans toward Anthropologie gift cards.”
He shook his head giving me that, isn’t she cute, look I liked so much, then he hit the shower.
I soldiered through his shower and me knowing he was naked in it by making a bowl of oatmeal and eating it.
I was on my second mug o’ joe when he came out dressed in army-green cargos and a short-sleeved linen-colored Henley that stretched across his pecs, was tight on his biceps and showed off the veins in his arms (and his tan).
I was running low on reserves, but I managed to soldier through that too.
He made himself some coffee.
I watched.
When he was done, I remarked, “My dad arrives Wednesday. He’s made a reservation at Lon’s that night. Wanna come?”
He leaned against the back counter, leveled his eyes on me, and answered, “Yes,” then took a sip of his coffee.
That gave me a good deal of relief.
And that thought made me wonder if I should be concerned about the level of relief it gave me, and the fact that Cap’s and my first date had so far lasted sixty-one hours.