Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Moments later, he walked back out and took another look around the house before coming back to his bed.
He stopped and eyed me beside his bed, but with the darkness surrounding us, he couldn’t tell that I was awake.
I’d stayed in my exact spot for most of the night, so comfortable I wondered if I could sleep in his recliner every night.
Surely, he wouldn’t notice a new addition to his place—right?
Smiling, I let my eyes drift shut just as I heard Coke crawl back into bed.
But then he cursed and sat back up.
“What is it?” I asked sleepily.
He paused, half in, half out of bed.
“It’s cold in here. Are you cold?” he asked.
He sounded almost horrified.
“Not really, no.” I paused. “I have your sweatpants on, though.”
He digested that for a moment. “I guess that’s one way to keep warm. If you need anything else…”
“My toes are kind of cold,” I admitted. “But I’m tucking them underneath the arm cushion, so they’re okay for now.”
He got up and walked to the dresser where I’d stolen his sweatpants while he’d been in the shower earlier. Once there, he opened the first drawer—which I’d found out were his socks and underwear—and pulled something out.
He shut the drawer and turned, coming to stand next to me.
“Let me have your feet,” he ordered gruffly.
I poked one foot out from under the heavy blanket that he’d found for me—apparently Frankie was a blanket freak and had like a million—and he slipped a heavy wool sock on over my cold foot.
“Other foot,” he ordered once he dropped my foot.
I lifted up my other foot and sighed when that sock moved into place.
His bare knuckles rested on the side of my calf for a few long seconds, and then he patted my thigh. “I’m sorry. I never thought to turn up the heat, and I forgot that there was supposed to be a cold front coming through. This damn room is the coldest part of the house with all the windows and the door that leads to the outside.”
I licked my lips, trying not to think about how awesome his hand had felt on the side of my thigh through pants and a blanket.
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t sleep with the heat on in my room because it dries my nose out and makes me stuffy.” I paused. “But you can turn on your heat if you want to. I won’t complain. You’ll just have to deal with me having a stuffy nose and sounding like I need to blow it constantly.”
He chuckled and finally removed his hand, heading back to his bed.
“We have a couple more hours of sleep yet, darlin’,” he murmured, voice rough and edgy. “Sleep tight.”
I wiggled my toes in the socks that I planned on stealing from him when he finally kicked me out of his chair and closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, it was to sunlight starting to pour in through the blinds covering his massive bedroom window and to Coke once again moving around.
He was making his bed, tucking the sheet into place then the comforter. With the way the bed was positioned, I couldn’t see anything from the waist down, so I focused on the muscles in his arms and how they retracted and bunched with his movements.
Then there was his abs.
The man had a great set of them.
Like, really good. Once he got out of the military, I knew that it was much harder to maintain. Obviously, Coke had no problem doing it, though.
Once he finished making the bed, he stood up, and it was then that I realized that Coke didn’t wear anything to bed but those boxer briefs I’d spied in his dresser drawer last night during my search for pants.
The pair he had on were red, and I could see every single delicious inch of his body.
He looked magnificent.
I wanted to eat him alive.
Even through the clothes he normally wore, I could tell that he was in great shape.
Holy shit, seeing him in his normal street attire was all fine and good, but seeing him in nothing but boxer briefs? Jesus Christ on a cracker. There was no comparison at all. Hands down, him practically naked won every single fucking time.
No ifs, ands or buts.
I licked my lips, trying not to move, so as not to bring his attention to me, and thank God I didn’t. Because he turned, giving me a full-frontal view, and my eyes automatically went to the bulge in the front of those boxer briefs.
My eyes went wide.
Holy guacamole.
The size of this man’s dick was downright frightening—in the best possible way, though.
Those boxer briefs traveled down his thick, muscular thighs coming to a stop about six inches above his knee. The waistband of his briefs rode low on his hips, displaying that expanse of muscled flesh that no woman could help but look at. The V.