Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He puts one of the steaks on my plate and we each help ourselves to the side items. We’re drinking red wine, and I’m being careful not to spill a drop onto the white tablecloth.
Brax’s home isn’t fancy, but this table he’s set for us is. There are two candles flickering in the center, cloth placemats, and cloth napkins. When I arrived, he wouldn’t let me help with the food, and when he brought me to my seat, a bouquet of flowers was waiting for me.
It’s all the very definition of romance.
I should also mention that Brax lives in a house, not an apartment, and that fact reminds me of our age difference. Brax is all man, but of course, that’s apparent just by looking at him.
His home, what little I’ve seen of it so far, suits him well. Simple, solid, comfortable, and very appealing.
I cut off a bite of steak, and he watches me eat it, waiting for my reaction. I close my eyes, savoring the flavor. “Mmm. It melts in my mouth. It’s so good.” He smiles when I immediately go for another piece. “This is the juiciest steak I’ve ever had.”
“Glad you like it.” Seeing that I’m happy, he starts eating, and the two of us are mostly quiet for several minutes, because the food is that good.
When we do talk, the conversation flows as easily as it always does. We catch up on each other’s work, his school, my crochet projects—though I’m still working on the same things I was last time we spoke, because I haven’t been home nearly as much as I used to be.
There’s still a good portion of steak remaining on my plate when my body signals that it’s getting full, but I can’t stop myself, and repeatedly keep thinking I’ll only eat one more bite.
Brax has already finished his meal and is watching me, but not in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. His expression makes me feel like my presence here is cherished. I feel more at home here than I do at my parents’ house, which is a surprising realization.
“I should’ve stopped several minutes ago.” I gesture with my silverware to the remaining meat on my plate. “Would you like the rest of this? We can’t let it go to waste.”
“How about we split it?”
I cut it in two pieces, giving Brax a much bigger portion. “I never eat this much.”
His voice goes low and deep. “Sometimes, it’s good to indulge.”
“Is that right?”
His strong hands with their long, thick fingers cut a piece of steak. He brings it to his mouth and takes his time wrapping his lips around it. I get a glimpse of his tongue, and I start to sweat.
His rock solid jaw works slowly as he chews, and I’m mesmerized. I can’t tear my eyes away until he swallows, the very masculine knot on his neck bobbing with the motion.
“I hope you saved room for a decadent dessert.”
I groan with pleasure and a couple different kinds of frustration. “You made dessert, too?”
He chuckles, a low rumble that seems to vibrate over my skin. “We can wait a while for dessert.”
“In the meantime, I insist on helping clean up.”
“You insist?” He’s amused by this, and I’m reminded of our size difference. I couldn’t physically force Brax to let me do anything. Then thoughts of his size lead my mind down dirtier paths. How would it actually be—this massive man and me?
“What if I don’t let you?” he asks.
“I’d have to tackle you and make you let me help.” It slips out; I blame the wine … and all those dirty thoughts.
He arches a brow, and from the look on his face, I’d bet money that he’s picturing it. “Much as I’d enjoy that, I guess I’ll let you help. We can load the dishwasher.”
After I finish the last bite of my steak and take another drink of wine, I follow Brax into his kitchen. “Are you sure you cooked the dinner? It’s awfully clean in here.” I’m teasing him; there are dirty pans, but nowhere near the mess I’d have made if I cooked all the food.
“I like to clean as I go. It’s much easier that way.”
I’m learning a lot about Brax tonight, and I like all of it.
BRAX
I liked having Ava in my truck, but that’s nothing compared to having her in my house.
She looks good here—like she does everywhere. She feels good here.
I’ve been doing a fine job of keeping my hands to myself, but once the dishes are taken care of, I pull her close.
She’s soft and warm, and feels just as good in my arms as she always does. She belongs here.
“I’m glad I could impress Ms. Foodie with my cooking.” Playfully, I slide the tip of my finger down the bridge of her nose to the tip.