Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“I might be an asshole, but I’m not a dick. Take the bed. I insist.”
I punch my pillow a few times to fluff it up before lying back and getting situated. The plastic squeaks under the sheet, and a faint whistling sound fills my ear. Holding perfectly still, I listen for it once more, only to feel the thing deflating in real time.
In less than an hour, I’ll be sleeping on the cold hardwood floors.
No good deed goes unpunished . . .
Anneliese climbs under the blankets of the twin bed, reaches up to shut off the lamp by the nightstand, then turns on her side, facing me. Despite the darkness, I can make out the shape of her body and the angles of her pretty face. With her cheek resting on top of her hand, her lips glide into a sly smile.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m ready for my bedtime story.” There’s a tease in her tone.
“Looks like you forgot your flashlight.” I roll to my side, and the air mattress releases another steady stream of air. Sitting up, I drag my fingers along the side to find the valve to ensure it’s sealed—it is. And then I pull up the sheet to feel around for any rips or tears.
“What’s wrong?” She sits up.
“This thing isn’t holding any air.” I follow the sound, searching for small rips or tears, only it seems to be coming from the valve itself. Grabbing my phone off the ground, I turn on the flashlight feature and inspect the thing. “Looks like it’s the valve. It’s ripped on the underside. Can’t believe I didn’t notice that when I was filling it earlier.”
Anneliese is quiet.
I stand up, grabbing my pillow and blanket.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To sleep on the couch . . .”
“The frame is warped—you’ll wake up with a kink in your back. Maybe not the first night or the second, but by the third you’ll be hurting,” she says. “Trust me. I speak from experience.”
“Then I guess I’ll sleep in my truck . . .”
She scoots to one side of the twin bed, patting the other half. “It’ll be a tight fit, but we can make it work.”
“You want me to sleep there? With you?”
“Don’t be weird about it, just . . . I’m trying to come up with a reasonable solution to this little predicament,” she says, using the very same words I used the day I came to seize the property. In retrospect, I could’ve been a little less brash, but I came in guns blazing because I didn’t know this woman and she represented someone who’d already taken so much from me.
Anneliese peels the covers back and makes room for my pillow. There isn’t much room on the open side of the bed, but I climb in beside her anyway and attempt to make myself as narrow as possible—easier said than done.
“You comfortable? Need more room?” she asks, inching closer to the edge of the bed.
I’m still hanging off my side, and one wrong move in the middle of the night will have me face-planted on the floor in two seconds flat.
“I think I’m falling off the bed over here,” Anneliese says a few seconds later.
“Me too.”
She laughs. “Okay, so let’s scoot in a little bit and meet in the middle. I promise I don’t have cooties.”
“That’s a relief,” I say. “Just so happens I had my annual cooties test last month. Came back clean.”
We slide closer, until our faces are mere inches away from one another and our bodies are all but fused from our feet all the way up to our middles.
“Would you rather lay like this and stare into my eyes, or would you rather me flip around and then it’s like we’re spooning?” she asks. “Which would be less awkward?”
I almost opt for the latter until I imagine her waking up to my morning wood poking her backside.
“Here, sit up.” I slide my arm underneath her and guide her closer. “Just come in a little, lay on your side, and rest your head on my chest.”
This way we’re not gazing into one another’s eyes, nor is my cock pressed up against her perfect little ass.
“Can I wrap my arm around you like this?” She slides her hand over my stomach. “Otherwise it just feels weird if I rest it straight.”
“I’ll allow it,” I say with a chuckle.
“Your heart’s beating really fast . . .”
I hadn’t noticed, but now that she says something, I’m suddenly aware of the steady thrum against the inside of my rib cage.
“Am I making you nervous?” she asks.
“Not at all.” I’m just not used to the lack of personal space and sleeping in such close quarters.
“It’s starting to settle down now.” She presses her cheek firmer against me.
“Thanks for the update.”
“Feel free to tell me that story whenever you’re ready.”