Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“More wine?” I pour her another glass and one for myself, then make her plate, piling the spaghetti and meatballs high.
“I’ll never be able to eat all that.”
“You said you were hungry. I’m going to feed you.” I sit beside her and lay a napkin across her lap. “Eat as much as you want.”
“It smells so good. Way better than Prego.”
I stifle a laugh. “High praise indeed.”
She smirks and takes a bite, a moan coming from her as she chews. “So good.”
Satisfaction buzzes through me as she enjoys my cooking. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Love it, you mean.” She twirls more pasta on her fork and stabs a piece of meatball. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“You know, Maggie, I haven’t even asked you what you do for a living.”
She stops chewing for a moment, then recovers and swallows. “Oh, I’m just a work from home contractor. Nothing special.”
“I think you’re quite special.” I push the garlic bread closer to her. “So you do contract work? What sort?”
“Just–” She takes a comically huge bite of spaghetti and chews for a long, long while.
I can’t help my smile. She’s fucking cute as can be, even when she’s not trying. It’s adorable.
When she swallows again, she dabs at her mouth with the napkin. “Like I was saying, I just do IT work here and there. Contract stuff. Sometimes people need help with their systems, and I’m the help.”
“Computer work, hm?” I sip my wine. “You must be good at it. You seem to have an eye for detail.”
She gives me a sidelong glance. “I notice things. Yes.”
“Far more than the average person.”
“You could say that.” She rubs her stomach and sits back. “If I take another bite, I might explode.”
“Don’t do that. I have tiramisu waiting for you.”
She moans and wipes her mouth again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. When in Rome and all.”
“And before you ask, no, I don’t make tiramisu for anyone else. Only you.”
She nods. “Good.”
Only ever you.
11
MAGGIE
I watch Owen lick his fingers clean of me once again. My heart hammers. There is something happening to me that I don’t understand. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. I want more. I never want to lose this sensation.
“You’re better than the tiramisu.” My face rushes with heat. After he gave me dessert, I told him I would never be able to return the favor. That if I ended up in a kitchen and was left to cook a meal, there would most likely be an explosion. Owen was set on proving me wrong, so he slipped his hand into my pants and gave me another orgasm. I can’t help but wonder what he tastes like.
“Really?”
“The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He kisses me. My taste lingers on his tongue. It makes me wiggle in my seat and want him to give me more orgasms. I don’t think it tastes as good as tiramisu, but coming from his lips, he might be right.
I sink my teeth into his bottom lip. He groans against my mouth. “Ever? Out of everything or everyone?” I push. I’m finding that I’m rather possessive when it comes to him. Something I’ve never been about anything or anyone in the past. It’s going to be a problem. I already sense it deep inside of me. I was an only child. I don’t think sharing is my strong suit.
“I promise you, Maggie.” He brushes his mouth against mine. I love the way he says my name. I should taste him now. Then again, I have no clue what I’m doing. I should google it. I mean, I’ve read about it in books, so I know the basics. But reading about it and actually doing it are two totally different things.
My stupid phone starts to go off, disrupting my train of thought and putting a damper on the moment. It was set to silent with the exception of a few people.
“Not a boyfriend, is it?” he asks, the tone of his voice suddenly changing.
“Would that make you jealous?” I ask, intrigued by this idea. It’s not that I want to make him jealous, but it might show me that whatever this is I’m experiencing isn’t one-sided. Then again, people make out and have sex all the time. It’s normal to the rest of the world. I don’t like it. Before it didn’t bother me, but then I didn’t have to think of Owen doing such things.
“Of course.”
I beam at his answer.
“Good.” I wiggle by him. “It’s just my best friend—who’s a girl—or my dad.” He could never meet Ocean now. He saw her at the coffee shop. Not that it matters. This is a job. I’m here to collect information and move on. As of right now, I’ve got nothing. Except that he gives killer orgasms and makes the best spaghetti I’ve ever had.