Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Sorry.” He loosened his grip and I wriggled down his body, stretching out on top of him. “But I can’t ever get enough.”
I laughed, still breathless, and laid my head on his chest. “You always say that.”
“But I’m serious. With you, that’s how I feel. I’m like an addict.” He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s a good thing we don’t live in the same state. You’d never get a moment’s peace.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’d trade a little peace for more of this in my life.”
He was quiet then, and I wondered if I’d said too much. I tried to think of a way to reassure him I wasn’t asking for more than he could give, but I couldn’t. I tried to think of a way to let him know he could talk to me about his family, but I couldn’t. I tried to think of a way to tell him I was falling for him all over again without scaring him away, but I couldn’t.
I went for safe instead. “How’s your headache? Did the chakra cleanse help?”
“Undoubtedly.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’m feeling much better. I also worked up an appetite, so what do you say we head downtown and grab something to eat before the game?”
“Sure. I just need to clean up a little.”
We put ourselves back together and headed out to the car, and Dallas tossed me the keys without my having to ask. We parked in a garage downtown, and he held my hand as we walked around Grand Circus Park, finally ducking into Cliff Bell’s for something to eat.
We sat at the bar, and Dallas looked around in amazement at the beautifully restored 1930s supper club. “This place is amazing,” he said. “How come I never knew about it before?”
“It wasn’t open when you lived here. And besides, this wasn’t exactly our scene back then.” I grinned at him. “Mostly we were looking for places to be alone.”
“True.” He leaned over and kissed my lips.
I took a breath and decided to be brave. “But next time you’re in town, we should definitely come here for dinner and see some music. They have great bands in here. It’s really fun.”
He nodded, his eyes dropping to his hands on the bar for a moment. “I’d like that.”
Victory! I nearly bounced in my seat.
The bartender came over, and I ordered a glass of wine and a salad. Dallas ordered calamari, and when asked what he’d like to drink, he said, “Just water.”
“No cocktail?” I asked, surprised.
He hesitated. “The headache meds I take don’t really mix well with alcohol.”
“Ah. But they help?”
“A little.” His crooked grin appeared. “Not as much as the blowjob.”
“Shhhhhh!” I put my hands over his mouth and glanced around to make sure no one heard.
He grabbed me by the wrists. “Hey. You should be proud of that.”
“Not in public, thank you. But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I did. I don’t even want to know why you’re so good at it.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not because I’ve had a lot of practice or anything. I was just really into it.”
“Ah.”
I leaned closer to him and whispered. “Plus I sometimes watch porn.”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah. Me too.”
While we ate, we reminisced more about high school and what we knew about where our friends had ended up. I talked about my sisters a little bit, how Emme was driving both Stella and me bananas with all the wedding stuff, and how Emme and I did not understand Stella’s strictly platonic relationship with Buzz. “I mean Walter,” I said. “Emme and I just call him Buzz because he’s obsessed with bees.”
Dallas grinned. “That’s buzzarre.”
I laughed and asked him what his friends were like in Portland, and he said he had one pretty close friend named Evan who was married and expecting a baby with his wife.
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Yeah, it is. I’m happy for them.”
I picked up my wine. “Do you want kids someday?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think I’d make a very good dad.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not…reliable enough. Responsible enough. Mature enough. I’m reckless. Careless. Shortsighted. I don’t make good decisions.” He looked at me with his water glass halfway to his mouth. “Should I go on?”
I wondered how many times he’d been told those things in his life. Enough to believe them, evidently. “That doesn’t sound like you talking. That sounds like someone else. And I don’t think it’s true.”
Another shrug before he looked into his glass like he wished something stronger than water was in it. “It’s true enough.”
I let it go, although it pained me to hear him talk about himself like that.
“So what will you do with your inheritance?” I asked. His grandfather seemed to be the one person in his family he enjoyed talking about.
“I’m not sure yet. I had a couple ideas at one time, but…”