Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Maybe we don’t need to worry about meaning.” But her voice is very small and very quiet.
“Or maybe that’s all I ever worry about, because you’re all that’s ever on my mind. I was afraid of being distracted, but now I’m so thoroughly in love with you that I can’t do anything but dream about being with you.”
Once the words are out, I can’t take them back. She sits up, staring at me, looking wonderfully sexed with pink cheeks and bitten lips, her mouth hanging open. “You love me?”
“I thought that was obvious by now.”
“No, I mean, yes, but—” Then she’s kissing me and wriggling her hips which only makes my dick a little harder. “I love you too,” she says between moans, and it’s that breathy admission which finally gets me fully stiff, and the truck starts quaking like the shocks are going to fall apart.
Chapter 43
Elena
It’s an early Sunday morning when Brody hustles me out of bed. “We have somewhere to be,” he grunts, turning on the shower and practically forcing me inside.
“What is with this urgency?” I laugh as he gets in with me and starts to soap me up. “Seriously, Brody, would you calm down?”
“It’s a surprise.” Based on the look in his eye, it’s a good surprise, but I can’t help feeling a little anxious.
“What sort of surprise? Are we talking like fancy brunch surprise? Or there’s a hitman coming and we need to go on the run surprise?”
He considers. “I’d say in the middle leaning toward fancy brunch.”
“Oh my god. What could possibly be in the middle of that?”
“The surprise.” He kisses me. “Now, lather up, baby. I want to look my best.”
I sigh dramatically but I like showering with him, and eventually one accidental soapy slip of the hand against an already semi-erect penis leads to him bending me over against the wall and fucking me into a gooey, messy bliss. Which obviously negates his whole fake urgency thing.
“Don’t pretend like there’s no time for coffee,” I say about an hour later as I wait for the drip machine to brew. He’s standing near the island tapping his feet. “You weren’t all impatient when you were balls deep in me, dickhead.”
“That’s very unfair and you know it. I’m a man with a healthy sexual appetite and you used your very slick body parts to get me all riled up.”
“My slick body parts? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“You tempted me with your hand.”
“My hand?” I burst out laughing as I pour coffee into two travel mugs. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re the one who was rubbing up against me.”
“I was trying to wash you! Because you told me to!”
He glares and accepts the mug. “No, baby, you were trying to jack me off because you wanted to delay. I know your tricks.”
I crack up as he stomps out toward the car and quickly follow. It’s a beautiful morning and I’m feeling good from a little banter and a little fantastic sex. At this point, I don’t care where he’s taking me, because the anxious voice in the back of my head is quieted down for once, even though I know we’re hurtling toward a potential showdown that could leave my family crippled and my husband dead.
But I’m trying not to think about that. He gets me in his truck and starts the engine. “You’re seriously not going to give me any clue about where we’re headed?”
“We’re going that way.” He points south and pulls out. “That’s all you need to know.”
“I just feel like I should say that brunch with your mother, while always lovely, isn’t exactly what I had planned for this morning.” I tap a finger against my lip thoughtfully. “Although it may be exactly between a normal brunch and getting murdered.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please, we both know you like spending time with my mother. You’ve got a thing for interesting moms.”
“That’s… weirdly specific and kind of true.” I lean back, frowning out the window. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, honestly.”
“You’re learning a lot about yourself today. It’s kind of beautiful to watch.”
I laugh and let the streets tick past. We really are headed toward his old neighborhood, but soon he pulls down a residential street in a good little area with lots of old homes. The architecture here is mostly Victorian with lots of peaks and bay windows and such, and he parks in front of one of the biggest houses on the block.
It’s not in the best shape. The exterior needs some work and the landscaping is a mess. But I can see the beautiful bones: columns on either side of the door, three stories with a blue tile roof and a pale gray stone facade. The windows look original and gorgeous.
“Why are we parked here?” I ask him, frowning as he turns to face me.