Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Let me know when you’d like to have dinner. Elora and I will be heading out of town in a week or so to go to Wyoming, and after we leave there, I want to take her to New Orleans for a couple of days.”
“I will after I speak with your sisters this evening.” She eyes me, and I start to wander toward the door. “I’m glad you found her.”
“Me too.”
“Tell her I said hello.”
“I will.” I leave after saying goodbye to Jane, going to my car. When I’m almost there, I dial Elora’s number just to make sure she’s still home since, lately, she’s taken to exploring the area around the building, going a little farther each day. She claims that she’s afraid to go too far for fear of ending up lost and hasn’t been brave enough to take the train, even with me, but I have no doubt that she will eventually.
“Hey,” she answers, the background noise of the city loud enough that she has to shout slightly. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah, I passed by this art shop, and in the window, they had a photo of a boy with a deer. It made me think of your story about when you were in camp.”
I smile at that. “Where are you?”
“Umm, I think between 9th and 8th Street.”
“I’m two minutes away since I was almost home when I called you. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“I don’t mind walking.”
“I know, but I want to pick you up.”
“Is everything okay?”
“All good. My mom said to tell you hi and that she wants to have dinner soon.”
“Really?” The relief in her voice makes me realize how badly she’s been hoping to make some sort of connection with my family.
“She’s going to talk to my sisters this evening and figure out when we can all get together. I told her that we’re heading out of town next week, so if it doesn’t happen before, then we’ll do it when we get back home.”
“Okay,” she says softly as I spot her on the street, standing near a storefront, with her hair up in a bun on top of her head and wearing one of the simple summer dresses I had the salesgirl at Nordstrom pick out for her. Even if she doesn’t feel like she fits in quite yet, she looks like she belongs in Manhattan.
“Look to your right,” I say as I double park, and she turns her head my way, a smile ghosting her lips. I get out to meet her on the sidewalk, dropping a kiss on her soft lips before walking her to the passenger door.
“I like this dress on you,” I tell her, skating my hand across the tops of her thighs as I buckle her in.
“Thanks. Some guy bought it for me.”
“Some guy, huh?” I meet her gaze, and she bites her bottom lip as she nods.
“That was nice of him.”
“I guess.”
“Are things serious between you two?”
“Maybe.” The word comes out slightly breathy when I slide my fingers up the skirt, stopping at the apex of her thighs, my fingertips barely skimming over the lace between her legs.
“Maybe?” When I get her shaky nod, I adjust the skirt of her dress, putting it back in place.
Standing back, I close the door and walk around the trunk, then slide in behind the wheel.
As I drive around the block to the parking garage, the air around us becomes thick with desire, and it takes everything in me not to touch her as she shifts in her seat and rubs her thighs together.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling into my parking space under the building a few minutes later.
“Great.” She gets out of the car, and I meet her at her door. Taking her hand, I walk her to the elevator and press the button. The doors open on cue since they lead directly to my apartment, and no one has gone upstairs since I left.
“Tell me about the guy who bought you that dress.” I turn on her when the doors close behind us.
“Why?” she asks as I step into her space, and she backs up, bumping against the wall. “Does he matter?” She rests her hands against my chest as I grip her waist.
“I guess not.” I slide my hands over her bottom and down the back of her thighs, then coast them up beneath her dress. When I find the lacy material at her hips, I drag it down, and she doesn't hesitate to step out of it. Grabbing the scrap of material from the floor, I shove it into my pocket.
“What are you going to do with those?”
“Keep them as a souvenir.” I grin, and she whimpers against my mouth as I lift her off the ground and press her against the wall. Using my hips to hold her in place, I yank her dress up over her ass and drag down the front of my shorts. There is no need to think about stopping to find a condom. A week ago, I got the all-clear, and she and I had the conversation about losing them altogether.