Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Like all of you guys,” I put in.
“Like all of us guys,” he stated.
“Like me,” I whispered.
Knox gave that a tick to absorb before he spoke again.
“He hates what she does, but he loves that’s a part of her. So he finds it in himself to deal.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
He held my gaze then lifted our joined hands to press his lips to my fingers.
I let out a sigh of relief.
He put our hands back to the counter and said, “You need us, you don’t hesitate to call on us.”
“We always would. Swear. And I definitely would. Swear.”
He kissed my fingers again.
“It’s a little early, but do you want to start dinner?” he asked.
“You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Then let’s start dinner.”
Knox let me go.
I jumped off my stool and rounded the bar.
Then, together, we made dinner and ate it in front of a game on TV.
Or Knox was watching TV.
I texted with Alexis to see how she was faring after the drama.
She was hurt but hanging in there.
And I could tell, not even what happened could make her less excited to be officially hitched to Jacob in T minus five days.
The hallmark of true love.
NINETEEN
MAGICAL PLACE
Knox might need to gradually increase his activity.
But the next morning, I fucked him instead of him fucking me.
He was semi-kinda back at work that day, and even though, for the most part, he’d be sitting in a chair and watching screens, I wanted him to have enough energy to keep his concentration up.
Also, I liked the top.
The only thing better than having your man under you, his chest and ab muscles flexing and popping, his fingers digging into your thighs, his face dark, his pupils blown, and his cock moving inside you, was having your man on top of you with all these things.
I mean, honestly, I’d give up my orgasm in order to watch the journey to his.
Fortunately, Knox never played it that way, so when things started to get heated (or more heated), he slid his hand up my thigh so he could use his thumb on my clit. Naturally, I went faster, then faster, and faster, and I came in time to be down enough to get the full beauty of watching Knox get his.
I dropped to his chest so I could feel it rise and fall under me, and he wrapped his arms around me.
“Gonna get you a cowboy hat,” he muttered. “You earned it.”
I smiled against his skin.
He felt it, I knew, because he squeezed me with his arms.
“Jacques is being good,” he eventually said. “But one of us has to take him out.”
Yeah.
We got busy before Jacques got to go outside.
I lifted my head. “You did it yesterday, I’ll do it today.”
“I’ll do coffee and puppy breakfast.”
We touched lips. I climbed off him (alas).
And we got up to face the day.
“Did you hear?” Harlow asked after she bopped to me by the bar at The Surf Club a little after noon.
“Hear what?” I asked back.
“The Red Bear is a fancy restaurant.” She bounced. “We get to dress up!”
Well, that was so much of a little bit of all right, I bounced too.
But…
Oh no.
Dilemma.
“Wait, do you think I should wear my black one-shoulder caftan-like thingy with the big orange flower on it or my all-lace tiered dress?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose as she considered this, then said, “I think the lace one is pretty, but it’s more summery than wintery.”
“I agree. So it’s the one-shoulder one,” I replied.
However, she was no longer listening to confirm our choice. She was looking beyond me.
I turned to look too, and saw a guy in faded, beat-up but not dirty jeans and a well-worn Phish T-shirt.
He’d wandered into The Surf Club like the kids with the golden tickets wandered into Willy Wonka’s factory. His eyes were round. His mouth was agape. And he seemed to want to take in everything all at once.
He stopped smack in the middle between a couple of tables, and the people at those tables, as well as others, not to mention Harlow and I watched him make a slow turn to take it all in.
Once he’d done that, he shouted to the general populace, “Groovintude!”
This did not surprise either Harlow or me because we’d met this guy in Denver. He was a friend to the Rock Chicks. His name was Kevin, but he went by “The Kevster.”
I already explained his outfit, and his exclamation, so I didn’t have to explain his monicker.
When he caught sight of us, he moseyed to Harlow and me.
“Angels!” he cried before he gave me a big hug and then one to Harlow.
He jumped back and exclaimed, “This place is what dreams are made of. Coffee. Booze. Food. Copious plants. The occasional beanbag. Free Wi-Fi. And a kickass mural. If I didn’t love my job, I’d want a job here.”