Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Sounds like she’s not a very good friend,” he teases before leaning forward to push one of my fingers down, “and to be clear, I didn’t say you needed to get fucked. I said you needed orgasms. The two are not the same, though I can see why you’d go straight to sex.” He runs his hand over his chest like he knows those piercings are my weakness, letting his gaze turn heated and his voice go husky. “Friendship doesn’t have to preclude that, though.”
He's not pushing, but he’s letting me know clearly that he’s open to whatever I am. I think that’s how Kyle lives his life—open to the possibilities. It’s an intriguing approach, one I’ve never had the luxury of experiencing since I fight so damn hard just to make it through every single day. But even being this close to Kyle’s light makes me feel like I’m circling the sun. Potentially getting a Vitamin D infusion, but also possibly getting burnt to a crisp.
“Yeah, I could probably take things to the next level with Nessa,” I muse, looking off as though considering the idea.
He laughs good-naturedly, knowing I’m joking. “Two friends is two more than some people get. What more do you need, then?” As he poses the question, he throws his arms out, as if he’s a prize and he knows it.
I need a lot of things.
I need my family to quit trying to marry me off to the first available man with a steady job. I need my business to thrive so I can pay my bills and prove to myself that I could’ve successfully run the restaurant if Papa had let me. I need the price of meat to stay where it is, or even better, go on sale next week. I need a shower. I need another kiss so good that the world completely stops for a moment. I need a kiss that makes me consider doing something for myself, even if it’s ridiculously selfish. I need orgasms that’ll make my body so boneless that I don’t feel the exhaustion that’s so normal to me that I can’t remember a time when it didn’t exist in the background of my consciousness.
“I need… dinner,” I finally say. “You?”
I told Kyle I wouldn’t feed him or his crew lunch as long as he’s working for Kathy. Feeding him dinner after he helped me with the dishes seems reasonable enough, though.
Kyle groans, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Do you have any of that brisket—or whatever you made today—left? It smelled delicious.” His eyes are filled with boyish hope that makes me smile.
“I might,” I tease. “Rice and beans, too.”
Kyle looks as though I promised him the winning lottery numbers.
Rather than feeling good about putting that excitement on his face, there’s a pang in my gut. Am I seriously going to warm him up a plate the way I judged Mara for doing for Xavier? The way I judge Mama for doing for Papa? Despite all my arguments, am I stepping right into the caretaking role I’ve fought against?
“Woman, you are speaking my love language. Let’s do it,” Kyle cheers, not helping my internalized struggle.
What does help is… him.
Kyle doesn’t sit down at the table, expecting me to serve him. He helps himself to my cabinets, opening one after the other. “Where are your dishes? Ah, here they are,” he says as he spies the stack of thrift store plates I was so excited to find because it was a whole set—matching dinner plates, saucers, and bowls, all with pretty red flowers. Kyle pulls out two large plates, setting them on the counter. “I’ve got serving spoons and forks already. And no worries, I’ll rewash them after we eat so you can close the kitchen for the night.”
That right there. His awareness of what has to be done before I can guiltlessly fall into bed tonight is what sends me over the edge into action. Kyle doesn’t want me to wait on him hand and foot. He wants to have dinner with me, working side by side, doing it all together.
“You thought it smelled good? Wait till you eat it.” I’m fully confident in my food. Mama and Papa might irritate me, but they definitely taught me how to cook like a beast. There’s a reason guys line up for my food, and it’s not because it’s cheap or convenient. Well, not just. It’s because it’s delicious.
Warming the food up doesn’t take long, and in minutes, we’re sitting down at the table with steaming plates in front of us. Kyle closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, and then starts to whisper.
Is he praying?
But then I hear his quiet words, “Don’t shovel it in like you haven’t eaten in days. Go slow, enjoy each bite. And for the love of fuck, don’t chew with your mouth open.”