Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I wince. The thought is depressing.
“He’s not a serial killer. At least we know that.”
“I guess.” I smile.
She jumps up and down on the spot. “How was it?”
“It was good.” I try to act cool.
“Just good?”
I begin to jump alongside her. “It was fucking unbelievable.”
I glance at my watch: 5:00 p.m.
Hmm, not a word from Blake . . .
Maybe last night didn’t go as well as I thought it did.
I hold the remote to the television and change the channel. I’m in search of something to watch to take my mind off the whole situation.
Blake was gone when I woke up, and then . . . nothing.
I thought he would have called or come over or . . . I don’t fucking know. More than this, anyway.
I hear my front step creak, and I sit up. Knock, knock.
He’s here.
I fly off my couch and open the door, and there he stands. Six foot three of perfect male specimen.
“Hello, Miss Dalton.” He smirks. He steps forward, forcing me to step back.
“Hello, Dr. Grayson.” I smirk right back.
He keeps walking until I am backed up against the wall, and he bends and softly kisses me. “Good morning.”
“Ha,” I scoff. “You’re ten hours late.”
He kisses me quickly again. “Better late than never.” He looks around my house. “I can’t stay long.”
Oh . . .
“On account of me taking things slow,” he adds.
“Oh.” I smile with relief. “Right.”
“I just wanted to come over and talk about Cancún.”
“Uh-huh.” I act casual.
“I made some calls today and was able to reschedule some of my appointments, so . . .” He shrugs. “I can swindle a few extra days off.”
Shit . . . I don’t think I can. My face falls. “How many days?”
“Maybe we could stay until Wednesday. I mean, that’s if you can take the time off. It’s okay if you can’t.”
“No, no,” I stammer as I try to think of a solution. “I’ll take some annual leave or something. It’s just if they can’t get someone to cover my class, that’s all.”
“Okay.” His eyes hold mine, and they have that look that he gets, the mischievous one that I love.
“Why do you want to stay longer in Cancún?” I act dumb.
“I have a few things in mind I would like to do.”
“Such as?”
“Go to the gym, play golf. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Right, well, maybe I can’t get the time off, after all.”
He grabs me aggressively and pins me to the wall. “Get the fucking time off.” He bites my neck. “Or else.”
I giggle up at the ceiling as his teeth ravage my neck. “Or else what?”
“Or else you won’t be able to come to the gym or play golf.” He steps back from me and gives me a broad smile.
My heart flutters in my chest at the sight of him.
“So . . .” He steps back again. “I’ll see you later in the week.”
When?
“Okay.” I act casual.
What time of what day will I see you?
He takes me into his arms and hugs me as he holds me tight.
Honestly . . .
His lips take mine as he kisses me, and I feel my feet float from the floor. A little tongue, a little suction, and a whole lot of forbidden promise.
The way he kisses is just so . . .
“Goodbye.” He steps back, but I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back down to kiss again.
“Did you put your piercing back in?” I ask.
His big hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me close. “You know, for someone taking things slow, you sure talk about my cock a lot.”
I smile against his lips. “Well, it’s a very interesting topic.”
He chuckles and steps back, and I know he’s making himself leave just as much as I’m making myself let him go.
“Try to get the extra time off,” he reminds me as he walks through the front door and out onto my porch.
“Okay.” I lean on the doorjamb and watch him walk down the front steps.
“Oh.” He turns around and comes back. “By the way, Carol is onto us.”
“I heard.” I smirk.
“I thought we were keeping it a secret?”
“Why?”
He frowns. “You don’t want to keep it a secret until your divorce is final?”
“I got the house signed over to me last week.” I beam proudly.
“You did?” His eyes widen. “That’s fantastic.” He picks me up and spins me around, knocking me from my feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had so much going on, I must have forgotten.”
“This is great.” He kisses me again. “We’ll celebrate in Cancún.”
“Okay.”
I watch him walk down the front steps and back over to his house as a dreamy sense of contentment washes over me. We are really doing this; it’s actually happening.
Wait a minute . . . I just told him it’s okay to tell people. What happened to my plan of taking this slow? Telling people is the opposite of slow.