Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Yeah, you are.” I chuckled.
“Hey,” she said softly but indignantly.
“Angel, if I can make it so that the worst thing that happens to you from now on is a little junk in your trunk, I’m all over that.”
“All over my trunk, Master?” she giggled.
I was surprised at her making a joke but her laugh and easy manner made me smile. That giggle was like music. I’d bet big money that she hadn’t giggled like that too much in the past two years.
“Not your Master,” I reminded her.
She didn’t reply.
“So PB & J for dinner?” I said finally to break the silence.
“Yeah,” she said hoarsely and then cleared her throat. “Yes, please.”
I hadn’t been inside a supermarket since… I don’t even know. Sarah did all my shopping. It was a weird experience. I seemed to be getting a lot of female attention; shoppers, cashiers, especially at the check-out when I grabbed a bouquet of flowers from a bin. I pushed away the nagging little voice telling me I’d give her the wrong idea and instead told myself I wanted to brighten up the apartment for her since she was stuck there all day.
When I got in, she was watching TV and she’d jumped like a cat that wants to latch itself to the ceiling at me opening the door.
I raised a hand. “Just me.” I hit buttons on the alarm panel.
She had her hair tied up in a high ponytail and she was wearing my pjs still. Her face was make-up free, but she looked fresh and pretty. The apartment smelled like lemons. Everything was spotless.
“Definitely need to get you more flannel pjs, huh?” I jerked my chin up and dropped the supermarket bag and bouquet on the counter.
“I, I washed them and put them back on. I hope that’s okay. I did your other laundry, too, from the trip, the, uh, stuff I could wash. I saw a dry-cleaning bag in the master walk-in so I put your suits in there.”
“You don’t have to clean and do my laundry, babe.” I started unpacking the groceries. “I have a housekeeper come by twice a week. Shit, Sarah’s due here Monday. We’re gonna have to figure out how to play that.” I put my index fingers to my temples.
I shook my head at that thought and then pulled out a crystal vase from a kitchen cupboard and filled it with water before I plunked the flowers in and put them in the center of the island. She smiled at the sight of them.
“So why do you like those pajamas so much?” I jerked my chin up. “Remind you of Alaska?”
She climbed up on a stool at the island. “Everything I have is just uncomfortable for lounging. Or inappropriate for outside the, uh, bedroom.”
“Ah. Well, tomorrow we can hit the mall.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Naw, what guy doesn’t like being dragged around a mall while a woman buys clothes?” I gave her a wink.
She smiled and it spread to her eyes. They sort of twinkled, the light catching them and her sapphire collar at the same time. My throat went dry.
“I’m really throwing your life into a tailspin.” Her expression dropped.
I shook my head. “I do my best work under pressure. No worries. So, why don’t you whip us up some PB & J and I’ll go get changed?”
She smiled. “You don’t mind eating sandwiches for dinner?”
I shrugged. “Naw, why not? Pizza for breakfast, PB & J for dinner, why be conventional?”
“You’re amazing,” she said and she was looking me right in the eyes. She looked serious. Too serious.
“It might look like that after what you’ve been through, Angel, but you don’t know me,” I muttered and left the kitchen.
As I passed the utility room, I saw that the dryer was still going and there were folded clothes and towels on top. Shit. Sarah would have something to say about this, for sure. When I came back out, she was finishing putting things away and she’d served up sandwiches.
“What would you like to drink, Ma—Dare?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” I said and sat down at the island.
She poured two glasses of milk and climbed up on a stool and looked at her plate with reverence. My sandwich was cut in half on the diagonal. Hers was cut into triangles. She closed her eyes for a beat and then I saw her mouth an “amen” and then she lifted one of the triangles.
She took a bite and the expression on her face gave me a semi. If her face went like that at a pb&j what the fuck would it look like while she was having an orgasm?
“I don’t rate for triangles?” I teased. I reached into the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup and squeezed a healthy dose into my drinking glass. Her eyes lit up. I squeezed an even bigger glug into her glass and then passed her a spoon.