Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Do you like that?”
I met the gaze of an older man.
“Yes. Is it for sale?”
“It will be once I finish setting it up. I designed it.”
I reached out my hand to shake his. “No need. Consider it sold.”
Ally appeared beside me, frowning as she listened.
“Do you want to know how much it is?”
“No. Can you deliver it soon?” Then I had an idea. “Do you design other furniture?”
“Yes, I do.”
After making arrangements for him to bring the bed to the loft the following week, along with his sketches for a chair I wanted made, I turned around to find Ally staring at me.
“Are you always this demanding?”
“When I want something—yes.”
“And you want that bed so much?”
“Yes.”
I bent lower, brushing her ear. “I want you, as well.”
Cue her blush. Chuckling, I ran my fingers along her smooth cheek. “Have you picked some sheets?”
“No.”
“You can’t find anything?”
“I wanted to make sure you liked what I found.”
I held out my hand, not wanting to tell her I didn’t care about the color, as long as she’d be resting between them. “Show me.”
I had never been one to enjoy shopping. My clothing was necessary for work, and I went to the same place to purchase the rugged pieces I used when traveling. I had some suits but rarely wore them. Most things, I ordered online or made as brief a stop as required.
But shopping with Ally was surprisingly fun. Picking towels, sheets, and other items she deemed needed. Dishes and glasses were apparently a requirement and the two chipped mugs I had in the cupboard not acceptable.
I tackled her onto a bed in the back as she studied a fluffy duvet. I kissed her until she was breathless. Until I was hard and aching for her and ready to hide under the duvet and have her, regardless of where we were. She rolled out from under me, standing by the bed, flushed and disheveled, her hand on her hip. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”
I grinned, lying back, not worried. “With the money I’m spending here, I doubt that, Nightingale.”
She rolled her eyes.
I patted the luxurious material, then swung myself off the bed. “But we’re buying the duvet.”
It took two trips to her car, and it was packed by the time we finished. We’d spent a shit-ton of money on stuff I didn’t really care about, but it seemed to make her happy. I liked making her happy—another first for me.
I gave her directions to my favorite pizza place, once again enjoying the quiet with her. I took her hand as we crossed the street, smiling as she slipped her palm along mine.
I smiled at her across the table. I sipped a beer, but she ordered tonic water again. Her eyes were huge when the pizza was placed on the table.
“How do you expect two of us to eat a pizza this size?”
I laughed. “I usually eat one by myself.”
She shook her head in disbelief. I watched her eat, fascinated. She sliced a bite of pizza with her knife and fork, chewing it slowly. I’d demolished over half the pizza, and she was barely starting on her second slice. She ate with precision, almost meticulously, each bite disappearing at an unhurried pace. She sipped her tonic water the same way. Small, delicate little sips, the level in the glass lowering only a fraction with her swallows.
She looked up, embarrassed, when she realized I was watching her.
“What are you looking at now?”
I ran a finger over my lips, studying her. “You’re very sexy. It’s artless. You don’t understand how much you turn me on, watching you.”
“I think you need another CT scan. Your head is really messed up.”
I laughed at her deflection. She had no idea how she affected me.
She rolled her eyes, indicating the remaining pizza sitting between us. “You should have another slice.”
“I already ate more than half.”
“This will be it for me.”
I sat back, frowning. “Is there anything you need to tell me? Do you not like food, or do you just eat really slowly?” I narrowed my eyes, remembering the way she nibbled her toast and barely ate any of the snacks I had put out for her. I wondered if she had some sort of eating disorder. She was certainly tiny enough. “Or something else?”
She frowned and shook her head. “I was taught a girl eats like a lady. I never eat very much, I suppose out of habit.”
“Habit?”
“My portions were controlled. When I was younger, Ronald felt I was too pudgy. That was unacceptable.”
I held back my curse. What was unacceptable was his attitude.
“So, you mean it’s fine I stuff my face and you don’t?”
She shrugged.
I slid another piece onto her plate. “Nope, not happening. Be yourself with me.” I took the last slice and folded it in half, taking a huge bite, chewing and swallowing. “And by the way, this is how you eat pizza.”