Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Callie is with Lewis today—don’t worry, so are three of the Adair men, so she is perfectly safe. And I thought I could pay you back since you won’t let me pay any other way.” She started walking backward toward my house, the curve of her breasts trembling slightly with the movement.
Images of her tied to my bed while I fucked her filled my mind, but I quickly shut them down. “How so?” I choked out, marching toward where she now waited by my door.
“Well, you’re a bachelor, so I’m assuming your place needs cleaning. I’m a professional. Plus, I brought a collection of baked treats for your eating pleasure.”
Eating pleasure.
What a choice of words.
Steeling myself, I unlocked the door and gestured for her to go inside. “I think you’ll find I don’t need your cleaning services.” But I’ll eat you for pleasure.
Groaning inwardly at the escaped thought, I ran a hand over my hair and watched her as she strolled through the large, tidy front hall into the even tidier living room. Following her, I tried not to like the adorable look of consternation on her face as her gaze swept over the place.
“It’s clean and tidy. Like … really.”
When I realized I was going to be staying in Ardnoch indefinitely, I decided against pissing my money away on rent. The property market here made buying the wiser decision. I’d bought the bungalow from a couple who’d renovated it. There was no trace of its 1960s origins. The walls were a light gray, the flooring hardwood, my sofa a comfortable leather corner unit, my furniture choices in a darker gray wood.
Sloane made a small huffing noise and wandered through the living room and into the adjoining kitchen. The rooms had once been separated by large doors, but the couple had removed them and widened the wall opening so the living spaces felt like one. The kitchen was modern with flush cupboards in a gray so dark, they almost looked black. There was a contrasting island in white quartz with waterfall edges, and the flooring tile was white and gray. Modern steel lighting hung above the island.
I liked to cook, so I bought the house because of the kitchen.
“Wow.” Sloane spun around to face me. “This is gorgeous.”
Aye, she could bake many a cake in here.
“And clean.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your house is so clean.”
My lips twitched at her disgruntlement. “I have a housekeeper. And I like things tidy. Ex-bootneck,” I reminded her.
“Bootneck?”
“Marine.”
“Ah.” She nodded in understanding. And then smiled that gorgeous smile again as she lifted the Tupperware. I was relieved to see her smiling more and more these days. As if telling me about her past had lifted some of the burden. “We can still indulge together. I’ve got some of your favorites in here.”
Shit.
She laid the box down on the island and reached out to touch my arm. “Where are your plates?” Her fingers lingered for a few seconds too long, brushing my bare forearm.
I knew what she wanted. Where this would go. The problem was, she was far too tempting for my peace of mind. So I did the only thing I could think of to get her out of my house. “I actually have company coming over.”
Despite my emphasis on the word company, she took the top off the Tupperware to reveal a collection of cakes and pastries. The woman was going to be the death of me in more ways than one. “There’s plenty here. Who’s coming over?”
Really? “A woman, Sloane. I have a woman coming over.”
She tensed, then looked up at me with those velvety eyes a man could drown in. She searched mine, and I tensed as she didn’t react at all like I’d expected.
In fact, she shocked the hell out of me.
“What if I suggested you cancel on her?”
My blood heated at the huskiness in her voice, at the invitation in her eyes. “Sloane …”
She turned fully toward me, her gaze moving down my body and back up again in a way no man could misinterpret. “Callie won’t be home until this evening. I’m yours all afternoon. If you want.”
I wanted.
I really, really fucking wanted.
“It’s not a good idea,” I practically snarled, turning on my heel and striding back into the living room.
She followed. “Why?”
Jesus, woman!
I admired her gumption, but she was killing me. Turning to face her, I replied, as gently as I was able, “Because I’m not interested in a relationship, and anything less with you would be too complicated.”
“But—”
“Sloane. Don’t.”
She was silent a moment, searching my face as if for answers. Then she shrugged, her cardigan falling off her shoulder with the movement, baring perfect olive skin. “Do you not find me attractive?”
No, I’m just a thirty-eight-year-old man fighting a hard-on like a fucking teenager because your cardigan fell off your shoulder. I scrubbed a hand down my face, gritting my teeth. “It’s not that.”