Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
But I merely smile like a dunce while proffering a plate of cookies in my hand.
“Hi,” I stammer with a smile. “Thanks for having me. These are for you.”
The lumberjack takes the plate, studying the baked goods covered in plastic wrap.
“Is this shortbread?” he growls. “Because I love shortbread and devour this stuff like a bear. Come in, sweetheart. Welcome to mi casa.”
I step in with a smile and look around his place. It’s a comfortable, if humble, spread. There’s a plaid, pea green sofa in the center, with a beat-up coffee table in front of it. A small dining table with two chairs is pushed off to the side, and there’s a utility kitchen that’s probably only ten by fifteen feet total, with an aging refrigerator, ancient stove, and Formica countertops. A doorway leads to a bedroom, and next to it there’s another door which likely leads to the bath. All in all, it’s a small, homey place for one person, and not that different from where I live. It’s newer, certainly, but my brother and dad have promised to refurbish my cabin when they have more time. Right now, we’re slammed with work, and need to devote our efforts to the business.
But Braden doesn’t know this, and sets the cookies on the tabletop before turning to me with a gleaming smile.
“A glass of sweet tea?”
“Yes, please,” I murmur breathily, immediately cursing myself. Why do I sound so stunned and girlish? I need to sound mature and womanly because I don’t want Braden to see me as a naïve innocent who needs to be taken care of. I want him to see me as a ripe, womanly female who’s ready to tussle with him in bed, jousting with that huge form like I’m his equal.
But you’re not his equal, the voice in my head whispers. This man is obviously a powerful alpha male, and he’s about a foot taller than you, not to mention a hundred pounds more. He could eat you up if he wanted to.
My cheeks blush as I seat myself at the table because that’s exactly what I want: to be devoured by this man. I want to feel those huge hands on my curves as he teases me with his cock. I want him to nudge his shaft into my swollen folds, making me drip as he groans with desire. I want ... I want ...
You don’t even know how sex works, the voice in my head scolds. Besides, how do you know that he’d be into you? A lot of guys avoid virgins like the plague. They want someone experienced and confident, who knows how to suck dick and provide handjobs. You know nothing about those things.
I swallow hard because the voice is right. I don’t know how to perform, but I don’t not know either. It’s embarrassing but I’ve watched porn before, and I’m aware of how these things are technically done. I just haven’t done them myself, but this is my chance. Right? I swallow again because I’m quickly losing my nerve. Yet nothing’s even happened yet!
At that moment, Braden comes over before setting a tall glass of iced tea before me with a flashing grin.
“Sorry for the wait. I boiled the water last night, but forgot to steep the tea while the water was hot. So I had to start over again this morning,” he says with a quirk at the edge of that sensuous mouth. “Your drink might still be lukewarm as a result. Let me know if you like it. If it sucks, we can have Coke instead.”
I smile up at his rugged features, my fingers itching to run themselves through his beard.
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” I laugh. “So long as there’s enough sugar mixed in, I’ll like it.”
“Oh there’s plenty of sugar,” he growls, taking the seat across from me with his own glass of sweet tea in hand. “There’s no shortage of that.”
I laugh.
“Good because I live for sugar. I know it’s wrong to say so because everyone thinks sugar is the devil these days, but a bit of sugar never killed anyone. Plus, I’m a baker,” I say with a smile. “So I need sugar. I crave it. I’m a fiend.”
A black brow quirks with amusement.
“A fiend? That seems a little extreme.”
“No, I’m a fiend,” I state in a confident tone. “Plus, I’ll let you in on a little secret. When the other ingredients are shitty, bakers add extra sugar to mask the otherwise low quality of the product. That, and extra butter too. It always seems to do the trick, although you have to adjust baking heat and times for the extra sugar and butter.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Braden growls thoughtfully. “The shit that you pick up at Costco and Wegmans is always insanely sweet, and maybe that’s why. They’re using low quality shit so they add massive amounts of sugar to mask it.”