Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“You ready to eat, drink, and be merry?” Giana asks, coming around the corner in a bathing suit. It’s fucking sin incarnate wrapped around her body, accentuating her breasts with the way the top does this cross thing on her ribcage, showing her slim figure. When she walks by me, her hands graze my lower stomach. It causes me to hold her hand there as my abs ripple. I have no self-control when she’s around.
“You’re playing with fire, angel.” I pull her into me, with her in so little and me without a shirt on, her smooth skin to my hard body. She’s keeping me in the same state I’ve been in since I first laid eyes on her, rock-fucking-hard.
“Maybe I like to feel the burn.” She gives me a coy glance before wrapping her arms around my waist, being careful not to jar me.
“Well, be prepared.” My hand grips the strands of her hair, lifting her face up to mine, before kissing her with so much passion, I’m shocked we both don’t ignite.
“I’m more than ready. Okay, you tell me what you want, and I’ll plate it and you can carry your plate. I’ll grab our drinks and mine.” I start to tell her I can take care of myself, but she puts her hand up in a don’t-talk manner.
“I know you’re not handicapped, believe me. I also know if I can do something to help make you heal faster, I’m going to.”
“When you put it that way, I’ll deal with it, for now,” I grouse. When Giana turns around giving me a view of her ass, it takes everything in me not to growl.
She loads our plates up before filling a glass. “You want a margarita or something else?” she asks.
“A bottle of water, but next time, it’ll be you and me drinking together.”
“It’s probably a better idea even with the small amount of medicine you’re on.” Giana grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge, tucking it between her body and arm, grabs her plate and the utensils we’ll need. I follow suit knowing I’m about to get another view of her hot-as-hell ass.
She opens the sliding doors that lead out to the patio, another thing that sold me on the place. The sliding glass doors open all the way and go into the wall, like pocket doors. Giana can bust my balls all she wants. I know she secretly loves it.
“I should have known it would be as spectacular as the rest of your house.” I’ve gotten accustomed to this place. Today I get to look at it through her eyes, the rock that sits in the corner, creating a waterfall but also a place for you to jump into the twelve foot deep pool, the deck that holds six lounge chairs, a table and chair set, and the outdoor kitchen in another corner.
“Thank you, I guess.” I move to put my food down on the table. She does the same.
“Shit, that came out bad. It’s really amazing, Drake. I see what you mean when you said this house is meant for children.” She gets a sparkle in her eye, and if I have my way, it’ll happen with Giana.
“I know. I was only busting your chops. Ready to eat?” We both take our seats, her sitting beside me, and I have to say I like that too.
“Yes, I’m salivating at the thought of all this food.” I watch her as she eats, not caring that she’s moaning the entire time, dancing in her seat. My eyes are glued to her. Giana must feel my eyes on her when she looks up. “What? Aren’t you going to eat?”
I nod my head, then dive into my own food, not really tasting it at all. I’m enjoying my angel more than I am the food that cost me a fortune.
“You have to taste this margarita. It’s probably the best one I’ve ever had.” Giana holds her drink out to me, her fingers holding the straw. It may come off too strong, but I lick my lips. Her eyes move to my mouth, and then I take a sip.
“It’s good but not my preferred drink,” I say after I taste it. Tequila is not my friend.
“What’s your favorite drink, then?”
“Smoked bourbon. It’s more of a sipping drink than anything.” She looks at me quizzically. So, I proceed to tell her, “You light a fire with some wood chips. The guys and I usually do this on poker night. Though those are few and far between these days, anyways. You encase the smoke in a glass, let it sit for a bit, then pour your liquor of choice, put a lid on it until the smoke evaporates. It’s a process, but it’s worth it. You can even add a lemon or orange peel if you want.” Giana’s eyes are wide, and she looks intrigued.