Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I need to let them off the hook.
I send a group text.
So… not to be pouty after all we have to be thankful for but it’s actually my birthday today – don’t worry I’m not mad you guys forgot – but how about we do dinner tonight? All I really want is a nice meal with my family. And of course for you all to sing to me with your terrible singing voices. LOL.
I wait. And… nothing.
It’s approaching four o’clock, so I hang one more dress in the closet that Riley promised to upgrade later on (it’s a little tight with his stuff and mine in there so I offered to put my stuff in one of the spare rooms, but it was important to him that I hang most of my dresses beside all his jeans and shirts). I wander outside over to the garage, knock on the side door and open it. He’s at one of three desks, eyes pointed at his computer screen.
I don’t want to show how disappointed I am that my family forgot my birthday, but I also know he can read me like a book so there’s no point trying to hide it.
He holds his finger up to ask me to wait.
“Okay, yeah, say no more,” Riley says. “It’s got my thumbs up. Bye for now.” He clicks something, then closes his laptop lid and beckons me forward with a crook of that raised finger.
As I move that way, the crooked finger adjusts to become a flattened palm. He raises a flat palm in the air and commands, “Stop.”
I freeze.
“What’s wrong?”
I’m panicked now, feeling like something might be wrong. Like my dream might be about to fall apart.
He gives a sharp shake of his head, like he wants me to halt that way of thinking. “Hello little witch. Here to ask me what time it is?”
My insides go liquid.
He jerks his chin up.
“Um… hello, Mr. Wolf.”
He epitomizes the term wolfish grin as he eyes me up and down.
I continue, “I was coming out here to tell you it’s about four o’clock, so I was going to suggest we meet up with my family for dinner in town, maybe. But maybe I’m wrong about what time it is.”
“Before we talk about all that, how about you ask me what time it is?”
“Even though I just told you I think it’s about four o’clock?” I ask, sassily.
“You’re very bad at this game, woman.”
“Thankfully it seems that you are not,” I volley and then I ask the question in my best over-performing, melodramatic, bad actor voice. “Gee… wonder what time it is?” I press my index finger to my chin.
Riley shakes his head with fake dismay. “Ask the right way, little witch.”
I hold back laughter and then ask, in my sultriest voice, “What time is it Mr. Wolf?”
“It’s four o’clock,” he replies, gaze heated, eyes drinking me in.
I take a step. “One.” And then I take another. “Two.”
“This gonna take all day?” he asks,” Gonna be twenty-five o’clock before you ask me for the time again?”
I laugh.
“Hey! This is a serious timekeeping matter, Mrs. Savage.”
I shrug.
He growls.
Ooh. I feel that in a very private place. I bite my lip as my belly dips.
His nostrils flare and his eyes coast over me.
“Three- four,” I say taking two steps quickly, resisting the urge to run to him. “How was that, Mr. Savage Wolf?”
He leans back in his chair and waits, looking at me expectantly.
“What time is it now, Mr. Wolf?” I ask. I’m still about six or seven feet away.
“Dinner time,” he says, and he rises, pushing his chair back.
I take off running. I’m out the door and halfway up the driveway when I’m caught.
I squeal with glee as he scoops me up into his arms. “I caught you, now what?”
“Now it’s my turn to be the wolf,” I tell him.
He laughs against my neck. “Denied. I’m always Mr. Wolf.”
I giggle.
“Early dinner and then we’ll talk about regular dinner.” He carries me into the house.
He might be the one who caught me, but I’m the one who attacks first, lunging for his fly as soon as we’re inside.
We’re tumbling onto the couch and he’s helping me free him from his jeans.
“Get this dress up, little witch.”
I lift it high.
“Fuck. No panties again,” he says, then growls and gives me a dangerous look. And my body reacts the way it always does whenever my man growls.
“Been like this all day?” he demands, smacking my ass with fire in his gaze.
I squeal as I shake my head. “Of course not. I took them off when we got home. I hoped we’d have some together time, but you had to go and work.” I scrunch up my nose. “On my birthday no less.”
Riley moves me to my back and sinks inside, staring into my eyes while he does it. “Love you, baby. No more work. The rest of the day is all about you.”