Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I tell him, crossing my arms and staring him down.
“Why?” He seems genuinely confused by this revelation.
“Uhh, because we both need to eat. Last week when we were chatting, I mentioned that I wanted to try the new Cobb salad on the menu at Twist of Lime. She said the same, so we decided to go on Saturday. You’re training most of the day, right, and lunch with a friend beats sitting at home,” I tell him.
He continues to watch me. “I could get you that salad.”
Smiling, I reply, “I know you can, but she offered and I accepted. What’s the big deal?”
Harrison runs his hand through his hair. “I guess it’s not a big deal,” he mumbles. “I just didn’t expect the two of you to hang out.”
“It’s lunch, Harrison. I’m not inviting her to be in our wedding,” I sass.
“Damn straight you’re not! That position is already taken,” Gabby pants as she continues to run like her ass is on fire. Chase, who’s running just as fast, almost trips himself up when he glances down and checks out my sister’s ass.
Harrison and I each step off our machines. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be overbearing. If you want to have lunch with Gina, that’s completely your prerogative.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my large belly into his lower stomach. “I’m used to the caveman routine.”
“It’s not a routine,” he teases, followed up by a gentle swat on the ass. His lips swipe across mine once again in a kiss that promises more to come, hopefully soon.
“Hey, Harrison, I was thinking of adding a few personal training sessions to my plan. I know you recommended Carlos last time. Do you think he’s still available to work me over?”
Gabby asks as she slows her jog down to start her cool down.
“I’m sure he is. He stays late on Wednesdays now, and even takes a few clients on Sundays,” Harrison tells my little sister.
“Carlos?” Chase asks, practically stopping his run and turning a wide-eyed face to Gabby.
She shrugs. “He seems more than competent to give me what I need,” she coos, clearly insinuating something a little on the dirty side. I already know that’s completely for Chase’s benefit, to get a rise out of him.
And it appears to be working.
“Fuck that. You need someone to work you over, I’m your man, baby.”
“I’m not sure you have the stamina to handle me, Callahan.”
“Baby, I have stamina for days. No need to worry your pretty little head about that.”
“Are they still talking about training sessions?” I whisper to Harrison, making him bark out a laugh.
“Of course we’re talking about training! What else would we be talking about?” Gabby asks over her shoulder with a friendly smile on her face.
“Definitely. I’m the only man for the job,” Chase responds, his eyes glued to my sister’s ass as she walks on the treadmill.
“If you both say so,” I mumble as Harrison entwines his fingers through mine.
“We’re gonna leave you two to talk about your pending training, then. I’m gonna steal Winnie away to go over her schedule for next week,” Harrison says, gently pulling me away from my sister and his best friend.
I groan aloud; I can’t help it. I hate going over our own training schedule. Harrison always thinks he needs to add different Callanetics exercises into my routine, and then I spend the next ten minutes arguing with him about why I don’t need to do them. He bores me to death with the added benefits, and I tune him out. It’s the same routine we’ve battled for the last eight weeks, since my gestational diabetes diagnosis.
My legs are heavy as we make our way through the gym and down the hall toward the offices. With Gina gone for the day and Chase up front torturing my sister, there’s no one back here. We enter Harrison’s office together, and he quickly shuts the door. He throws the lock—not a good sign for me if we’re about to argue over next week’s schedule.
I open my mouth to try to head him off, when his lips slam against mine. With my mouth still open, his tongue easily dips inside my mouth, licking and tangling with my own. A groan spills from my mouth as his fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me tautly against his body. His erection is there, large and heavy in his shorts, and making the ache between my legs that much more intense.
“Fuck, you can’t wear this anymore in public,” he growls, tracing his lips along my jaw and down my neck.
“Wear what?” I ask, my brain struggling to catch up.
“My shirt. I know it’s mine, Winnie, and when I see it stretched across your belly, it makes me want to do dirty things to you,” he whispers, just before nipping at my earlobe.