Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“You have dogs?” I do a little skip-jump.
“Yeah, Rosy and Eleanor. Rescues. Sort of like you.”
A smile blossoms on my face. “I love dogs so much. I’ve never been allowed to have pets. They are considered a unnecessary expense in our group. But, when we’re at the festivals, people bring their dogs and I just always wanted one so bad.”
“Well, come on. Meet your dogs.”
The way he says ‘meet your dogs’ makes me pause, but I’m so excited I don’t dwell that I may have misunderstood.
“Come on. I need to get inside you—” Merrick immediately stops himself and shakes his head. “I mean, I need to get you inside.”
He turns toward the house, my hand in his as he guides us to the front door, and I’m nervous but at the same time, I feel at home. Something I’ve never felt before.
Just inside the door, the interior is more stunning than the exterior, if that’s possible. Warm wood, cream and white, and spots of blue that remind me of the ocean with soaring ceilings and rough beams. Rosy and Eleanor jump and lick and I sit right down on the floor and let them engulf me.
“They don’t usually take to strangers. They’re not really trusting of most people. Can’t blame them, they didn’t have the best upbringing.” Merrick stands, watching with a warm glow in his eyes, scratching the side of his face. “But, they probably need to go out.”
When he says, ‘go out’ both the dogs turn to him, wagging their tails and panting as he opens the front door and they go bounding outside.
“They won’t run away?” I ask, my heart already missing them, worried they will disappear into the forest.
“Nope. They know where their home is. Besides, I installed an invisible fence and trained them. They can run around ten acres; they know their boundaries. Dogs like to know someone else is in charge. Makes them feel safe.”
Merrick guides me by the hand to a huge open kitchen and my stomach growls again, right on cue.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling my lips to the side.
“You’re not the one that should be sorry. As long as you are with me, I’ll be sure from now on you eat, you are safe, you get whatever it is you need.” He holds my face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie, I want you. I want between your legs, and I can’t fucking wait to get my mouth on your sweet pussy, but always and foremost, I will take care of you. Your safety and well-being trump everything else. And food is something you look like you’ve not had enough of a long time.”
I hesitate, then nod. “I am hungry, but…”
“But what?”
“But, well, I have allergies. I can’t expect you to go out of your way—”
He holds my shoulders. “So you have allergies. Tell me what they are.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, and he nods, so I take a deep breath and plunge in. “Eggs and chicken. Poultry in general. Once I nearly died, my throat swelled up so much.”
“Say no more. I’ll make sure you never touch them and they never touch you.”
I marvel as I watch Merrick work his way around the kitchen. He’s obviously a skilled cook, chopping vegetables like he’s on Top Chef, rubbing down a piece of red meat with ten spices, then searing it on the grill portion of a stainless-steel cooktop that looks like it belongs in a five-star restaurant.
“God, that smells good.” I’m salivating and it’s from the scent of the food, but it’s also from watching Merrick. I never believed what a turn on it could be to watch a man cook. It’s like he’s painting a masterpiece just for me.
“This smells good, I agree.” He nods toward the food, then gives me a look that makes me shiver. “I know something that smells much, much better.” Merrick looks at me like I’m the piece of beef he’s ready to devour and my stomach flips and flutters.
It’s been a long time since I ate a meal like this. Salad, mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes and a steak like I didn’t know existed. He asks what I’d like to drink and I answer water but he’s not buying it. After some interrogation, I admit, my favorite, favorite thing to drink is pink lemonade, extra sweet.
Just so happened, he had lemons in the refrigerator, and he made me the best homemade pink lemonade I’ve had in my life.
Since I was a child, my food has been restricted, controlled, and not just because of my allergies. Keeping me waif-like and rail thin helped me play my part. It was the same in each family I was sold to. When I was little, I was to pull on people’s heartstrings, look frail and needy. My unique eyes were a draw even back then, making people gasp and stare. As I grew, it changed into what I am now.