Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
After I dragged myself from the shower, I rummaged in Caine’s closet to find a T-shirt. His walk-in was bigger than my kitchen. Grabbing an old, worn Brooklyn College shirt, I pulled it on and ran my fingers through my wet hair.
I found Caine sitting at the dining room table with a pile of papers and his laptop open. He was wearing those glasses I loved so much on him and looked up to watch me walk down the hall.
“What?”
“My T-shirt. It looks better on you.”
When I reached the table, he immediately slipped a hand underneath it and grabbed my ass.
I wagged my finger at him. “Uh-uh-uh, Professor. Looks like you have work to do.”
“My TA should be grading these papers.”
“You didn’t ask. I would have.”
He pulled me down onto his lap and buried his face in my hair. “Why don’t you grade them now? I’ll finger you while you read through the essay on the art of rhythm.”
“You’re so crass.”
He looked up at me. “What’s crass? Fingering you? You like my fingers inside of you. And my tongue. And my cock. I wish I had more parts to put in there. I’d never come out.”
I shoved at his chest and laughed. “I’m starving. You need to feed me.”
“What? That’s what I was trying to do. Warm you up to feed you.”
“How about you make us something to eat, and I’ll finish grading?”
“Deal. I fucking hate grading papers.”
I finished marking the tests while Caine whipped us up some breakfast. Pancakes with a side of sausage.
“This is really good. But it’s the same thing you made at my house.” I pointed my fork at him. “Do you only know how to cook pancakes?”
“No, wiseass. I know how to cook a lot of different things. I just don’t do it often because it’s easier to grab something on the way home.”
“I’m not that great with meals, but I can make a hell of a cake and pastry.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Rose, my aunt who raised us, was a pastry chef. She liked to try to bond with me and my sister by baking together all the time when we first moved in.”
Caine seemed contemplative. “Did your aunt and uncle have kids of their own?”
“No. Rose couldn’t have kids. They were actually foster parents for a long time. After they adopted my sister and me, they stopped taking in fosters. They had their hands full enough with me and Riley.”
“You’ve mentioned that you had some wild years. I would’ve liked to see that.”
“No, you wouldn’t. We put poor Rose through hell. Teenage girls are bad enough without an excuse to raise hell. I was no angel, but my sister was downright awful.”
Finishing my breakfast gave me the perfect excuse to get up and try to change the subject. I wasn’t a good liar, and it was only a matter of time before Caine would stumble onto a question I wasn’t ready to answer. I took our plates to the sink and decided to wash them by hand rather than load the dishwasher.
Caine came up behind me and kissed my shoulder. “Do you have to work tomorrow night?
“No. I work evening tonight and day tomorrow.”
“I want to take you somewhere tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
“Get dressed up.”
Finishing the last dish, I turned off the water and turned to face him. “How dressed up?”
“As much as you want to be.”
I couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so right. Caine read my goofy smile. “What?”
“This feels…right.”
His eyes searched mine. “It does. As much as I fought it, and it’s against every rule at work, nothing’s felt this right in a long time. Maybe I couldn’t get you out of my head because you’re supposed to be there.”
We spent the next few hours being lazy, snuggled up on the couch watching old Law & Order reruns. I hated for the day to end, but eventually I had to ask Caine to drive me home so I could get ready for work. We dressed in his bedroom together.
I made the bed while he changed into jeans and a polo and brushed his teeth. There was a half-empty box of condoms tossed aside on the nightstand.
The master bathroom door was open so I yelled, “Where do you keep these?”
“What?”
“The condoms.”
“Nightstand. But you can leave ’em out if you want. We’ll be finishing those off soon.”
I smiled as I opened the drawer and went to place the box inside, but a small, silver-framed photo caught my eye instead. Nosy, I picked it up to examine it. It was a picture of Caine’s old band. He was probably in his early twenties and was arm in arm with another guy about the same age. The rest of the band hovered in the background.
Caine appeared and caught me with it in my hot little hands. “I’m sorry. When I opened the drawer, I saw it. I couldn’t help myself. You were so sexy.”