Dream Spinner (Dream Team #3) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Dream Team Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 138315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 692(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
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And with what I hoped was as little snooping as possible (but I only did it with a purpose, and that was not to snoop, it was about dental hygiene), I found not only did he have floss (and he told me to make myself at home, so I tore off a string), but also strengthening and whitening mouthwash (I had this too!). So I used some of that as well.

Done in the bathroom, I wandered back out into the hall, and instead of going back to the bedroom, I went the other way.

At the other end was a room, not as big as the master, but not much smaller.

It was an office with a desk, a laptop on the desk, two handsome wire trays on either edge, both stacked with papers. Desk chair behind. Another armchair and ottoman in the corner, this one slouchy but handsome. Some shelves filled with books and what looked like trophies and medals.

And the pièce de résistance, a vintage stand-up Pac-Man video game against one wall.

Sweet.

Smiling to myself about Pac-Man, and still carrying Axl’s note, I walked out.

In the bedrooms, the blinds were drawn so they were somewhat in shadow (though, not much blocked out the bright Denver sun, even dark blinds).

However, light came bright in the rest of the house through lots of big windows.

And I walked out of the office into a dining room area that was beyond a half wall from the living room. Black furniture. Round table. Four chairs, their backs curved, the style was elegant and classy but also modern. And in the middle of the table was a wide, squat, interestingly shaped glass bowl in hues of blue, black and clear.

It was a fantastic bowl.

It was also the kind of bowl a man who had monogrammed notepaper owned.

On this thought, I started to feel a little weird, not exactly in a bad way, as I drifted into the living room.

I’d spent time in that room last night, but I hadn’t taken in an inch of it seeing as I had a bevy of other awesome (after the scary) things to occupy my mind and my time.

Now I saw it had a cool fireplace. Two couches perpendicular to it (gray). Two armchairs facing it (navy). Big TV over the mantel. Coffee table. End tables. Lamps. Black-and-white pictures on the walls, all of which seemed to be urban-life photography. Graffiti. Murals. The light rail of Denver at night.

And there was a handsome chest in front of the picture window. On it was a piece that was made of polished nickel that looked like a starburst but it was fashioned to erupt, not as if it was going out and toward you, but like it was detonating from the surface of the chest into the air above it.

It was magnificent.

Way better than the bowl and the bowl was rad.

I noted a throw blanket folded neatly on one of the couches, a pillow on top of it.

Axl was tidy.

I knew he was ex-military, perhaps that should be expected.

But outside the chair covered in clothes in the bedroom, the rest of the place suggested he was seriously tidy.

I wandered back past the dining area, into a kitchen.

And that was the same as all the rest.

White walls. Black-and-white-checked tile floor. White cupboards. White quartz countertop.

But black appliances and graphite countertop appliances.

Though the kitchen towels were navy-and-white stripes.

“Axl has it going on,” I whispered.

And he did.

He was clean as well as tidy (which I was too). His style was stark and modern (as was my own), but it also had personality (as I thought mine did too).

And he flossed and rinsed with tooth-strengthening mouthwash, as did I.

I suddenly understood what that weird feeling was from before. Part of it was that I’d spent so long wanting to know him, now being in his space, learning what he was like, getting to know him, even when he wasn’t there, felt super nice. Not to mention, having an understanding that we were compatible in a few ways felt super nice too.

The rest of it was seeing his place was not a bachelor pad.

It was a grown man’s house.

One where you lived and moved your girlfriend in when it got serious, and you stayed when you got married.

But only for a while, because when you decided to have kids you moved so you could have more room.

I got a little thrill at this thought as I walked to the counter where there was a coffee pod sitting next to a tall glass with a spoon in it that had a long handle.

Axl had set me up for coffee.

And he had cool coffee glasses.

I didn’t even know there were coffee glasses.

But Axl had them and they were super cool.

Again smiling, I headed to the fridge to get some creamer.

And found Axl was a creamer guy.



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