Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
His eyes narrowed, and he swung the door shut. “Everyone knows it’s common courtesy to follow up after you spend the weekend with someone.”
She hadn’t known that, but she did now. “I’ll be sure to remember that in the future.”
“Good,” he snapped. His gaze then dropped to her robe. “You look hot.”
She hated how much her body responded to his objectification. “So do you.”
He continued to scowl. “I spent the forty-five-minute drive back from the city yelling at you in my head. I thought you were having second thoughts.”
“No.”
“Okay. Good. Because I wasn’t going to sit here and let you come up with a laundry list of doubts about why we can’t do this.”
“I don’t have a list.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you raising your voice at me?”
“I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I was prepared for a fight.”
“Maybe you have doubts.”
“I don’t.”
She raised her brows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Sorry. I honestly thought you were going to…never mind. Hi.” He kissed her softly, and she closed her eyes, leaning in for more. But when he glanced at the den, he pulled away and frowned. “What is all this stuff?”
“It’s for the shower.” Nautical wrapping paper, navy blue tissue, ribbons, and twine covered the folding table she’d carried up from the basement. “It’s my temporary craft zone.”
A blue banner that read LITTLE CATCH draped over the armchair. Mason jars covered the coffee table, surrounded by piles of baby’s breath, eucalyptus, rope, shells, netting, and mini buoys. The centerpieces could have been constructed by now if she hadn’t spent the entire weekend at Soren’s. She tried working on them today, but threw the glue gun after she burnt her fingers for the tenth time.
“Turns out, I’m not that crafty,” she admitted, showing him her blistered fingers.
He tsked. “Jesus, Joce.” He automatically pulled her scorched, red skin to his lips and kissed her booboos.
She smiled, unsure why she loved it when he did that so much. “All better. Thanks.”
Soren drifted into the den and stared at the half-constructed diaper cake. “What are you trying to build?”
“It’s supposed to be a cake.”
“Out of diapers?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. Women do all kinds of weird shit when babies come along. I saw it on Pinterest.”
Of course, the one on Pinterest actually looked like a cake. Hers looked like it survived a natural disaster.
He glanced at the notebook with a list of games jotted down. “Dirty diaper game?” He looked horrified.
“You fill diapers with baby food, and the guests lick them to see if they can guess the flavor.”
He swallowed and pressed a fist to his mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s a popular baby shower tradition.”
“According to who? People aren’t going to lick shit out of diapers!”
“It’s not shit. It’s baby food.”
He gagged. “Absolutely not. No way I’m doing that.”
She took the notebook from him and flipped a page, making a note beside Soren’s name.
“What are you writing?”
“I’m taking that as your RSVP.”
“I’ll be there, but I’m not licking a dirty diaper.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do and like it.”
“Oh, really?” He laughed, corralling her back toward the sofa. “I seem to recall it was the other way around this weekend.”
He plucked the tie of her kimono loose and caught the back of her knees, dropping her onto the cushions in one smooth move.
“Speaking of licking. I couldn’t stop thinking about how we christened the dining room table.”
“Oh?”
“Mm-hm.” He kissed a path down her neck, dragging his mouth across her collarbone as he shrugged his suit jacket off in one impatient motion. “Gave me an instant hard on at work.”
“Did you jerk off?”
He drew back as if wondering why he hadn’t thought of that. “No, but now I wish I had.”
“Next time, you should. And you should call me while you’re doing it.”
“Why? Would you touch yourself too?”
She shrugged. “Sure. I masturbate all the time during work.”
“Ohmygod,” he groaned, collapsing into her. “You can’t tell me shit like that. How often?”
“Whenever I write a good sex scene.”
“Seriously? Do you do it before, to get in the mood, or after?”
“Before, if I need some inspiration. After if I did a good job.”
“Fuck,” he said slowly, letting the word drag out. “Next time you do it, call me. I want to watch.”
She smirked. “It’s already on video.”
His breath caught and he glanced up at the ceiling, searching for her cameras. “You dirty, little exhibitionist.” He unbuckled his belt. “I have to have you.”
She laughed at how urgently he withdrew his cock. “Does it ever occur to you that I might be too busy for this?”
“No.”
“Well, I am.” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down.
His mouth closed around her soft nipple, pulling it into a hard point. Her fingers twisted into his hair as she arched and moaned.