Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she smiles while her eyes soften.
“Thank you.” She tips her head back for a kiss once I’m close, something I’ve become used to her doing this last week. Anytime she wants my mouth, her head tips back and her eyes lock with mine, letting me know silently what she wants. I fucking love that she gives that to me.
“Just so you know, your rules don’t apply when we’re at my parents’ house. I can and will kiss you whenever I want.”
“Not in front of your parents,” she denies with a smile while shaking her head.
“I’m not agreeing to that, baby,” I mutter, sliding her hair over her shoulder and kissing her neck. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I just want to put out some food for Loki, since he’s refusing to come inside to eat,” she mumbles, and I smile, watching her fill his bowl with dry food.
“I told you he’s his own dog,” I say, taking the bowl from her once she’s done and going to the front door. I set the bowl down outside and whistle for Loki to come. He bounds up the steps and starts to eat. Giving his head a rub, I shut the door behind me then pull my coat off the hook and put it on. Grabbing her black, short leather jacket, I help her with it then watch her loop the thick cream-and-gold scarf she knitted the other day from the yarn Mom got her, around her neck.
“Ready?” I ask, and her eyes meet mine.
“As ready as I’m going to get.”
Taking her hand, I lead her out the front door to where my Suburban is parked then help her in. Once she’s situated, I shut the door, jog around to the driver’s side and get in behind the wheel. After starting up the engine, I drive us into town and stop to get gas then stop once again at the local grocery store, since the flower shop isn’t open on Sundays. It takes Gia longer to pick out flowers than it does for us to get to town, so by the time we hit the highway to my parents’ place, it’s already after four, which I know is making her more anxious.
“It’s going to be okay, so you can stop looking at the door like you’re thinking about opening it and jumping out onto the highway,” I tell her while reaching over and grabbing her hand, bringing it to rest on my thigh.
“I wasn’t thinking about doing that,” she grumbles under her breath, making me smile.
“Have you ever had dinner with a boyfriend’s family before?” I ask, and her hand, under mine, convulses on the word boyfriend.
“No… I…” She clears her throat. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”
“What?” I question in shock, glancing over at her quickly before looking at the road once more.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve dated some, but nothing ever serious.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” I see her shift in her seat.
“Babe, how the fuck is that possible?” I wonder how in the world a woman who looks like her, acts like her, and dresses like her hasn’t had a serious man in her life before now.
“I don’t know. It just never happened.”
“You know that’s what this is, right?” I question, just to make sure she’s clear on what’s happening between us.
“I didn’t know,” she admits, and one hand tightens around the steering wheel while the other does the same around hers, that I’m still holding onto.
“Well that’s what this is. I’m your man, your boyfriend, your significant other. Whatever the fuck you want to call me, that’s what I am to you.”
“Significant other?” she repeats, and I hear the smile in her voice, but I ignore that and stay focused.
“This is more than us sleeping together,” I say, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice but failing to do so. “Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” she whispers, and I grunt. “We never talked about it,” she defends, and I shake my head.
“I didn’t think we needed to. You’ve been in my bed for awhile now, and before that, we had dinner together almost every night, gone out together, and spent a fuck’ov a lot of time together.”
“I didn’t want to assume this was more serious than it was, even if I wanted it to be that serious,” she replies, and I glance at her again, seeing her worrying her bottom lip.
“Baby, you need to start talking to me about shit if it’s bothering you or if you have questions. Don’t ever be afraid to ask me about anything when it has to do with us.”
“Okay,” she agrees, and I let out a breath.
“How is it possible that you make me so fucking happy and so fucking crazy at the same time?” I ask the windshield.