Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I snatch up the milk jug before my hands are tempted to explore something far more enticing than caffeine, then head back to the coffee pot. “No. But…”
Henley doesn’t breathe while waiting for me to finish my sentence.
I relish the quiet. I’ve barely had an ounce of it since she joined the chaos I call my life. However, I’m not eager to go back to silence either. I was lost during those first couple of hours of peace tonight. Chaos is hectic, but it is also therapeutic when you associate death with silence.
Once my mug is full of murky goodness, I spin to face Henley. She’s still watching me with awe, her early morning treat no longer her focus. “I might have to consider getting one if you remain standing in the freezer.” When she slants her head and arches a brow, confused, I expand on my reply. “The thermometer.”
“Oh.” After popping the lid onto the tub, she stores the ice cream away, then joins me at the island. “I was too busy contemplating if you have somnophilia to remember my comment about a rectal thermometer.”
“What?”
She props her hip on the counter. “Somnophilia is—”
“Someone who gets sexually aroused by having sex with someone who is asleep. I know what it is.” It isn’t the father side of my brain speaking when I add, “I’m more trying to work out why the heat on your chest extended to your cheeks during your contemplation.”
Henley replies without a single balk or any signs of repulsion. “You have to admit it is pretty hot.”
“To not give consent?”
“To be wanted so unapologetically,” she corrects. “And consent can still be given.” She stares me deadpan in the face. “If you’re too impatient to wait, I give you permission to wake me in any way you see fit.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
That isn’t for Henley. It is for my cock, which is acting as if none of my objections are serious. Its response to Henley sleeping in my bed is why I had to sleep downstairs, and it wasn’t even behaving as devious as it is now. It was imagining itself snuggled in her curvy backside, nestled between the cheeks I struggled not to spank when she ignored my numerous requests for her to cover up.
“I need to check on Lucy,” I announce, using her as an excuse to dodge human interaction as I have the past five and a half years.
Henley must be a pro at hiding her emotions. She barely sighs before she jerks up her chin. “I’ve done a solid eight hours, so I might just hang out and watch TV.” Her fondness for Lucy can’t be misunderstood when she shifts to face the stairs before saying, “If she asks for me, will you come get me?”
“Of course.” I rub her arm like a principal would a student, then grumble about stupidity while taking the stairs two at a time.
I’m expecting Lucy to be sound asleep, so you can imagine my shock when I find her in the bathroom, climbing up onto the vanity. She still sleeps like she did as a newborn, her necessity of twelve hours on par with her uncle’s. Thane whines like a baby when he’s woken before midday.
“Lucy, what are you doing?” I ask when she almost slips. After scooping her off the drawer handle she’s using as a ladder, I plonk her backside onto the vanity. “Are you thirsty?”
Blonde curls tickle her cheeks when she shakes her head before she scrubs at her tired eyes. “I need to help Henley.” I don’t get a chance to announce my confusion. “She’s sick too, Daddy. We need to help her.” She reaches for the aloe vera gel bottle. “She made me all better, so now I have to help her.” I feel like a fucking ass when she confesses, “Her skin is hot. Dis will make it better.” She never pronounces her words properly when tired. She slurs like a drunken sailor. “Aunt Chelsea said. She gave it to Henley when she said she didn’t want to wear her swimsuit.”
“What?”
Lucy is more forgiving of my daftness than Henley. “Aunt Chelsea wanted Henley to look pretty for you, so she gave her the butt-hungry swimsuit to wear.” Her giggles bounce around the bathroom. “That’s what Henley called her new swimsuit when she saw the bottom half. She said it would make it look like her bottom got hungry and ate her swimsuit.” She yawns before leaning in close. “I wanted you to think she is pretty too, so I told her you like butt-hungry swimsuits.” My heart enlarges when she peers up at me. Her eyes are identical to her mother’s in every way. “You did like them, didn’t you, Daddy? That’s why you got mad.”
“I didn’t get mad.”
“Yes, you did!” With a huff, she leaps off the counter and then hits me with some of the sass I’m sure I’ll get smacked with a hundred times a day once she is a teen. “You were mean to Henley, and now she might leave.”