Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“I missed this,” I tell him as his mouth leaves mine and trails down my neck to the top of my breast.
“Me, too.” I feel him smile against my skin, then see it when he pulls his face back to look at me. “That was the kind of greeting I could get used to,” he says.
I start to laugh. “I kinda lost all thought about being classy and normal when I heard you knock on the door. I’m sure Miss Ina would frown on me greeting you like that if she knew I did.”
“And I kinda don’t give a fuck. I loved it.” He smiles, running his fingers through my hair. “Have you eaten?”
“Earlier.”
“Anything besides junk food?” he asks.
I look over his shoulder briefly while I shrug.
“Right.” He grins, then laughs when Pool jumps up onto the couch next to my head and shoves his face where Antonio’s fingers are running through my hair so that he can get some love, too.
“I think he missed you,” I tell him as he sits back and picks Pool up.
He holds him against his chest.
“He gained weight.”
“I thought so, too, but I wasn’t sure.” I run my fingers along the top of Pool’s head. “I know that he likes to eat. He’s already perfected a cute little pout to get treats whenever he wants them.”
“He’s been good?”
“Yeah, really good. He’s sweet.” I smile at him as he climbs up Antonio’s shirt to his shoulder, then stands there, looking around. “It’s nice having him around to keep me company.”
My cell phone rings. Picking it up off the coffee table, I answer. “Hello?”
“Is Libby Reed available?” a man asks.
“This is her.” I smile at Antonio when Pool leaps off his shoulder and jumps to the back of the couch.
“We’re downstairs with your delivery.”
“Awesome. Come on in. The door’s open—just come up the stairs,” I tell him. He hangs up.
“Who’s that?” Antonio asks.
An excited smile lights my face.
“My new bed.” I rush to the door as two men come up the stairs with a mattress.
“New bed?” Antonio asks from the couch.
My eyes go back to him.
“With Mac now living with Wesley, I get the whole room to myself. Which means I can finally stop sleeping on the twin. Today some people came and bought the twins, and now my new bed is here,” I explain excitedly.
I step back to let the guys through the open door.
“Where do you want it?” one of them asks, looking at me.
“Right through there.” I point to the bedroom.
They head that way, then come out a few seconds later.
“Be back with the rest. While we’re doing that, you mind filling this out?”
“No problem.” I take the paper from him and fill out the highlighted information. When they come back up, they bring the box spring and the metal frame. I didn’t get a headboard because I figured I could go online and order one when I know what I want. When they leave after assembling the bed, I rush to my room and jump on it, bouncing once and then laughing when Antonio comes down on top of me.
“This is much better,” he says.
I smile. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Yeah.” He touches his mouth to mine. “You want me to help you make it?”
“If you don’t mind.”
He stands and pulls me up with him, then orders, “Get the sheets.”
Rolling my eyes, I go to the living room and grab the bags I left there earlier. I bring them to the bedroom.
Hearing him laugh, I look. “What?” I ask.
“My mom . . .” He shakes his head.
“What?” I frown, not understanding what his mom has to do with my new sheets or why he thinks it’s so funny.
“Did my mom give those to you?” he questions.
My frown grows deeper.
“No.”
“Really?” His frown matches the one on my face.
“Yes, really. Why?”
“My mom showed up at my place a few days ago with that exact bedspread and sheet set. She said she thought you’d like them. She tried to convince me to put them on my bed.”
“Your mom bought sheets she’d thought I’d like for your bed?” I repeat in horror.
He ignores me and continues, “I refused to take them. No fucking way am I sleeping on flowers.”
“You won’t sleep on flowers?” I repeat as I look at the floral sheets and comforter, then back at him, raising a brow. “Do you think you won’t be able to . . . you know”—my eyes go to his zipper—“function in floral sheets?”
“Let’s get the sheets on the bed and find out,” he growls, prowling toward me.
I laugh, backing up.
“I don’t want to disable your manhood wit—”
I laugh harder as he grabs me around the waist, cutting off my words by dropping his mouth to mine and thrusting his tongue between my lips for a very deep, very wet kiss that is over too quickly. “Now I have a point to make, Princess.” He takes the set of sheets out of my hand and opens the package. We make quick work of making my bed; then he throws me down on top of it, coming down on me once more. “You feel that?” he asks, thrusting his hips into mine.