Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“Morning sunshine,” King says with a smile. “Let me in.”
I bite my tongue to keep the nursery rhyme from falling out of my mouth as my sleep-addled brain recites it. Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin. It seems fitting. His stare implies he could be the big, bad wolf.
His dark eyes, better to see me with.
His wolfish grin, better to eat me with.
I do a shudder at the thought.
“Do you realize what time it is?” I ask. It must be early with the way my body is still screaming for me to go lay down.
“Yeah, babe. It’s almost noon.”
“It is?” I ask. Damn I slept longer than I thought. “Really?”
“Yeah.” he laughs.
“Shit,” I mutter.
We stand staring at one another for a second. I don’t know what else to say. All my usual fire has left me. His dark eyes are too captivating for me to think of a reply.
“Shelbers, let me in,” he coaxes. That smile. I want to shake myself awake so I don’t fall for it. Sleepy me wants to fall into this tall drink of water. While logic is waving orange flags and screaming danger.
“Oh no,” I tell him, waving my hand. “Stop that right now. You don’t call me that.”
“I like it and you’re being cute right now. So, it fits,” he says.
“You mean I’m being mad right now.”
“I know, and it’s damn cute.”
He did not just tell me being mad is cute. “You really are insane.” I move to close the door, but he interrupts me.
“Let me in. I have food,” King says, holding up the bags. I scowl at the offending peace offering just as my stomach growls.
“What kind of food?”
“Breakfast.”
“What kind of breakfast?” I hedge, quirking an eyebrow at him.
He laughs, and it rolls over me. The baritone is deep and rich. I want to hear it again. It’s a sound I could become addicted to all to easily.
“I have a little of everything because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“What does everything entail?” I ask, curiously.
“Waffles, eggs, sausage, and bacon.”
I bite my lip wondering if letting him in would be worth the breakfast. My stomach growls again. This time a little louder. I love Belgian waffles. I still don’t think it would be worth allowing him in though. I need to focus on self-preservation where King is involved.
“Tempting offer, but I think you need to go home. You’ll have to talk to me some other day.”
“Beautiful, let me in. Your food is getting cold.”
“You have two bags. Surely it doesn’t take that much room for waffles,” I press.
“I was afraid you were a coffee and pastry kind of girl.” He chuckles. “So, I brought jelly doughnuts.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Um…no.
“And those chocolate covered long johns,” he adds with a hopeful tone.
“Eek!!!!,” I squeal as I slam the door.
“What the hell?” King mutters.
I release the chain on the door, open it, and then walk out to him. “Where’s the chocolate bars? Give me!”
He looks at me like I’m crazy for a second. He’s likely wondering if I am. If I have a major weakness—besides bad taste in men—it would be chocolate frosted long johns.
“I didn’t bring candy,” he says, his face wrinkled up as he tries to figure out what I mean.
I frown at him. “Did you or did you not just tell me you brought long johns?”
“Yeah,” he says, holding up the smaller bag. I snatch it excitedly and go inside, leaving the door open for him to follow me.
“In California we call them chocolate bars,” I inform him over my shoulder as I go into my kitchen.
“You’re from California?” King asks.
“Yep. Fontana to be exact.” I shrug. “This is my home now.”
He watches me as I put the bag on the breakfast bar. I pull one of the chocolate-covered confections free. I can sense King’s gaze on me, but I don’t care. It’s been too long since I had one of these. I pull it out of the wrapping and take a bite, moaning as the sugar dances on my tongue.
“Damn,” King groans, wiping a hand down his face. “I’m going to have to bring you those damn things every day.”
I grin, shifting my attention to his face just in time for him to lean in and kiss me. His lips on mine are better than the treat, but I stand still, in shock. I push into the kiss because it is way more enjoyable than the chocolate bar.
Chapter 8
King
I drink in the sweetness of her soft lips, devouring her and the taste of chocolate. I thought I needed to kiss her. Too late I realize that one taste of her lips is going to be an addiction that takes over. She goes to my head, and I need to keep the kiss going as our tongues dance in perfect tandem—as if they’ve been doing it for years.