Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
When it was over, she collapsed on top of his chest, both of them trying to catch their breath. He skimmed his hands up and down her back while she recovered, holding her close, their bodies still intimately locked together, while wondering how the hell he was going to walk away from her after this weekend.
He told himself he had no choice. She was the kind of woman who deserved so much more than he could give her. Like his time and attention. Work was his mistress and demanded long hours out, and after Angie, he couldn’t expect any woman to adhere to his insane schedule.
He ignored the painful thump in his chest and told himself he had today and tomorrow with Georgia. And he wasn’t going to let any of their time go to waste.
* * *
After taking a shower and getting dressed for the day in a blouse, shorts, and sandals, Georgia followed the savory scent of breakfast to the kitchen and found Drew busy at the stove. They’d showered—separately, so they didn’t get distracted again—and he was wearing a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of Nikes.
He turned around when he heard her enter, a sexy smile on his lips. His own hair was still a bit damp and finger combed away from his handsome features, and his eyes traveled down the length of her, spending extra time checking out her bare legs, even though he’d seen them plenty last night and just a short while ago.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said huskily as he turned off the burners before closing the short distance between them.
Before she could reply, he framed her face in his hands. He tipped her head back and kissed her, slow and sweet, making butterflies erupt in her stomach and leaving her breathless with desire by the time he was done with his romantic, sensual greeting.
“Happy birthday,” he said, letting his hands drop away from her cheeks and giving the end of her braid a playful tug.
She grinned, feeling lighter than air and more infatuated with Drew than she knew was wise, but decided it was her day to indulge and enjoy how he made her feel. “Yes, very happy indeed.”
“Good. Let’s get you fed.” He turned back to the stove and the three frying pans on top—one with scrambled eggs, another with french toast, and the other with crispy bacon.
She was impressed that he’d made such an elaborate breakfast. Everything smelled amazing, and her stomach rumbled hungrily. “What can I do to help?”
“If you drink coffee, you can make yourself a cup,” he said, pointing to the coffee pot and the mug on the counter. “Then, sit at the table and let me wait on you for your birthday.”
She did as she was told, not wanting to argue when he seemed truly in his element in the kitchen. She fixed her coffee with sugar and creamer, then took a seat at the nearby table—which was already set with silverware, butter, syrup, and orange juice—and watched him serve up the food.
He set a plate in front of her, noticing that he’d added a berry compote for the french toast. She couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, a man cooked for her, and something so special, too.
“Thank you. This looks amazing.” She slathered a bit of butter on her french toast, then added a dollop of maple syrup. “You look very comfortable in the kitchen, which is impressive for a bachelor,” she teased him.
He shrugged. “You can thank my mom for that. She taught us to cook growing up. Every Saturday, one of us kids was appointed her sous chef in the kitchen,” he said, digging into his scrambled eggs. “She always wanted to make sure that her boys knew how to take care of themselves.”
“I like your mother already,” she said after eating a bite of bacon. “I wish my mother would have been more hands-on that way, but she never had the patience to teach her daughters anything domestic. For as long as I can remember, we had Maggie, our housekeeper, who did most of the cooking. And if she had a night off, then we would go out to eat. I didn’t learn to cook until I was in college and living on my own for the first time. Now, I actually enjoy it.”
He ate the last of his french toast and took a drink of orange juice before meeting her gaze from across the small table, a teasing grin curving his lips. “So, a very important question for you…how is it that you’ve never been on top?”
She blinked at him in confusion, then blushed furiously when she realized he was referencing their sexy time in bed this morning. “The few guys I’ve been with have just been very…vanilla.”
“There’s vanilla, and then there’s flat-out boring,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m going to enjoy corrupting you.” He waggled his brows at her.