Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Ben placed it in his lap and tore at the wrapping, causing the tape to snap. And as soon as he realized it was a toolbox, he exhaled a chuckle and shook his head.
“Christ—I don’t think you know how much this matters to me, Trace.”
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head. “I understand a handy handyman slash contractor like yourself will eventually have a whole collection of these, but I figured it was a good start.”
He smiled and ghosted his hands over the box. “More than a good start,” he murmured. “But it’s—” He sighed quietly and glanced at me. “I haven’t owned things in years. I’ve had a box or two stashed away at Ma’s, and I’ve had some tools at Garrett’s place, but… Buying things just hasn’t been on the radar for several reasons.”
That made sense. You didn’t need to be materialistic to find comfort in having some stuff to call your own. In a way, those things made up your home. They also signaled a next step for someone like Ben. His life was no longer about surviving the night.
I wanted him to set down roots here.
Fuck. I had to say this. It was going to be the least friendly shit I’d tell him today, but I needed him to know.
“You know what gave me the idea for the toolbox?” I pulled up a leg so I could face him fully, and I ignored the nerves tightening in my gut.
“I don’t know, me storing tools all over the stairs?” he joked.
I smiled. No. And this toolbox wasn’t meant for power tools.
“No, it was when you were talking about how you could make changes around here,” I answered. I nodded at my cheap entertainment unit that mostly held the TV and some old movies. A couple knickknacks from Chip. “You mentioned built-in shelves along that entire wall—and how you could build them without the landlord pitching a fit.”
“Well, you put up drywall in the back,” he replied frankly. “You make it so it can be dismantled easier.”
I nodded. “Things like that. And the kitchen table you’re working on. And the stuff about the fire escapes—you said I could grow vegetables there.”
“At least the one in the kitchen,” he confirmed. “That one gets sun.”
“Right. So you have all these ideas, and I want you to run with them.” I leaned forward and dropped my chin on his shoulder again. “I don’t know if you’re aware of all the things you mention in passing, but I listen. I’ve heard each one. You said something about shelves in the hallway too, and that it’s big enough to be more useful.”
He furrowed his brow. “And then you said you didn’t need storage space and more furniture.”
Maybe he shouldn’t listen to Past Trace so much? Did he ever consider that?
“That was the old me.” I smiled. “The new me has a roommate and plans for their future.”
Their future. Our future.
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip for a short second and dropped his gaze to my mouth.
“Sounds serious.”
“Very.” I mirrored his movement and dropped my gaze too, and he finally reached his limit.
He closed the last distance and covered my mouth with his, and desire and need exploded within me, sending sparks of heat through my bloodstream. A gasp got stuck in my throat. All I could do was throw myself into the kiss and climb him like a tree.
The toolbox landed on the floor with a clank, but neither of us cared. We deepened the kiss the moment I was on his lap, and he palmed my ass roughly and pulled me down on him.
Thank fuck, I’ve waited too long.
I cupped his face in my hands, feeling his stubble under my fingers, and tasted him on my tongue for the first time in months. It felt like the same shiver ran through both of us, and I couldn’t get close enough.
“Wait—”
“No!” My eyes flashed open, and panic bolted into my chest.
“I’m just gonna turn off my alarm, baby.” He rushed out the words.
Fuck. Holy fuck. My heart pounded, and I swallowed dryly. How much of a lost cause was I?
Functioning on autopilot as my ears began ringing, I got off his lap and planted my ass on the mattress.
Hold on. Had he called me baby?
He turned away from me to grab his phone off the armrest on his side. “Fuckin’ hell. The last thing I wanna do is rush this, but I gotta be out the door in half an hour.”
I could work with that. Fifteen minutes was enough to create a promise for later, and I could, uh, assist him in the shower.
“As long as you come back, I’m happy with a quickie,” I said.
He sighed and rolled back over, and he pushed himself up on his elbow. “I told you to aim higher—this is a great example.” He patted the spot next to him, and I was quick to get closer. “I don’t want you to be happy with a quickie if you’re scared I’m gonna leave, Trace.”