Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“What do I have to do to talk you into something else?”
“If you hate it that much, I’ll pick a different one.”
I flip the pancakes, and he spins me around, cupping my face and kissing me senseless. “You’d do that for me?” he asks against my lips.
“I mean, it’s a hardship, but yes. I don’t want to torture you.”
He grins. “You’d better take those pancakes off the burner.”
“Oh!” I turn and pull them off just in time, but before I can make more, he slides the skillet off the flame and tugs me back into his arms. “Christian, I’m trying to cook you breakfast here.”
“And I need to show you my appreciation.” He nuzzles my neck and slides his hands under my pajama pants, cupping my bare ass. “You’re not wearing panties.”
“You just take them off.”
He moans in agreement and works the elastic down my hips, and the pants pool around my ankles.
“Cooking while naked isn’t safe,” I remind him.
“It’s a good thing you’re not cooking anymore.” He boosts me onto the countertop and squats, eye level with my pussy. “Look at you, all wet and ready for me.”
“I mean, you kissed my neck, so it’s not really my fault.”
“I’m going to kiss more than your neck.”
Never one to make hollow promises, he buries his face in my core and takes me on a rollercoaster ride of sensation, from light interest to burning orgasm in about six seconds.
Jesus, the man is good with his mouth.
He stands and is tall enough to sink inside me, right there, bracing himself against the cupboards as he moves in and out.
My shirt’s still on, but he pushes the hem up so he can cup my breast, teasing the nipple in his fingertips.
“You fucking turn me on,” he growls just before he comes spectacularly, leans in to kiss me, and then helps me off the counter. “I think it’s your smart mouth.”
“I am rather smart,” I agree as I shimmy back into my pants and finish making breakfast. “Now, if I let you eat this in bed, you have to promise not to get crumbs in the sheets.” I turn to look at him, take in the sexiness, and reconsider. “Actually, I wouldn’t kick you out of bed unless you wanted to do it on the floor.”
He snickers as he carries the syrup, butter, and our forks to the bed. Steel Magnolias is queued up on the TV.
“We can change it.”
“What would you rather watch?”
I think about it for a moment, buttering my pancakes. “Beaches,” I reply, and he flops back on the bed, covering his face with a pillow and yelling as if he’s in great pain.
I can’t help but laugh at him as he peeks out at me.
“You’re killing me, fancy face.”
“It’s a classic.”
“It’s sad. Why do girls always want to watch sad movies?”
“Okay, let me think.” I take a bite of my pancakes, then reach for a piece of bacon. “I haven’t seen that one with Matt Damon where he gets stuck on Mars.”
“That’s one I can get behind,” he says and reaches for the remote.
“Have you seen it?”
“I’ve seen almost everything,” he replies. “And I don’t mind watching it again.”
“Is it like doing homework? I watch a lot of HGTV, and I go on the Parade of Homes and stuff because I like seeing what’s out there in real estate. Is it the same with you and movies?”
He takes a bite of bacon, thinking it over. “Sort of, I guess. But mostly, I just love films. I enjoy being swept up in the fiction of it.”
“Fairy tales are a fun place to be swept up in.”
“I think that’s why, although I can respect the acting in movies like Steel Magnolias and Beaches, they aren’t my favorites. It’s not that I don’t want to be moved, to feel what they’re feeling. But I don’t like it when there’s not a happily ever after. That’s what Hollywood is all about, in my opinion.”
“You want it all to work out in the end.”
“Absolutely. I want to leave the theater with hope. I don’t want to be sad for the rest of the day.”
“I can see that.” I finish my breakfast and set my plate on the floor. “Did I tell you that the girls and I watched a couple of your films the other night?”
He stops chewing and narrows his eyes at me. “No. You didn’t.”
“Well, we did.”
“Which ones?”
I tell him, and he smiles. “Who picked?”
“Grace, I think. She and Jacob have an amazing theater in their house.”
“I have one in my house in L.A., as well. It’s my favorite room in the place.”
I frown, reminded that he has a big life in California that doesn’t have much of anything to do with me.
But I refuse to let it interfere with my time with Christian while he’s here in Cunningham Falls.