Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“What time is it?” I ask as he walks over to the bedside table he put his phone on last night.
“Six thirty,” he replies, and I gawk at him.
“On a Sunday?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Every day, plus not sure when Meadow is going to be home, but I figured you wouldn’t be down for me being buried balls deep inside you when she gets home.”
“You would be right.” I point a finger at him, and it dawns on me that even though I didn’t get much sleep last night, I feel refreshed. “Do I have time for a shower?”
“Yes,” he says, “and then we can make breakfast.”
“Pancakes?” I ask as he walks to me and wraps an arm around me.
“Anything you want, baby,” he says softly before kissing my neck.
“I like that,” I say softly, putting my hand on his chest and kissing him right where his heart is beating. “I’m going to get in the shower.”
“Okay, I could join you, but I don’t think I could keep my hands off you.”
“I promise not to hog all the hot water,” I say over my shoulder, stepping into the bathroom and walking over to the shower.
It takes me no time to shower without him. Walking over to the bag I brought in the day before, I grab my white jeans and a gray short-sleeved crop top, then pull out a long light-pink sweater to go over it when I leave. I pack the rest of the clothes in the bag and walk out of the bathroom, expecting him to be waiting, but all that is there is an empty bed. The covers are all over the place, pillows thrown left and right. I walk over to the bed, pulling the sheet up but then think he might not want to sleep in the same sheets we had sex in. I walk out of the bedroom, calling his name. “Caine,” I shout and see him walking out of the kitchen wearing shorts and nothing else, “do you want me to change the sheets?”
“I want you to get your ass downstairs and not worry about my fucking sheets.” He shakes his head. “How am I going to even sleep without you there is what I’m trying to figure out. At least I can smell you.”
I roll my lips, walking down the steps, stopping at the last one so we are almost the same height. “That’s really romantic in a non-creepy way.” I put my hands on his shoulders and feel them damp. “Did you shower?”
“Yeah, in the spare shower. I figured it was safer.” He kisses my neck, his stubble pinching a bit. “Come. I made you coffee, and I’m about to start the pancakes.”
“First, you give me the best sex of my life, and then you cook for me,” I say, and he glares at me.
“I’m the only person to give you sex,” he retorts, and I laugh at him.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, you set the bar high.” I raise my hand to the sky. “Like infinity and beyond.”
“You should stop talking,” he says, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the kitchen where my cup of coffee is on the island, right in front of a stool. “Sit,” he orders.
“Bossy, even at home,” I huff, getting on the stool and taking a sip of coffee.
He shakes his head as he walks around the counter to the other side. “Question?” I say as he picks up his own cup of coffee. “When can we do anal?”
He spits out his coffee and then immediately starts to choke. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asks, coughing and walking over to the sink to grab a rag to wipe up the mess he just made.
“I’m just asking since I’m new to this. What is the waiting time?” I tap my finger on the counter. “Matty’s cousin, Franny, was talking about it, and you have to ease into it.”
I wait for him to answer when the doorbell rings, and I look over at him with huge eyes. “I’m going to table that question.” He points at me as he walks to the front door. I get off the stool and want to kick myself for not putting on my shoes before coming to sit down. I hear shrieking from Meadow and then Caine thanking whoever took her last night.
“Guess who is here for breakfast?” Caine says from the front door. “Grace.”
“She came back?” Meadow asks, and I close my eyes, thankful she’s too young to put two and two together.
“She did. She missed eating pizza with you,” he explains, and I hear her feet running into the kitchen.
“Gracie,” she says, using a nickname for me, her hair loose, “you came to eat with us.”
“I did,” I confirm, getting down. “How was your sleepover?”