Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Lame excuse.
Lame but true. Most of us are out here surviving and calling it living because we can’t see another viable option.
“Win?”
That’s right. He was asking about vacations in other countries and my mind just straight up wandered into my own version of “Skid Row.” (Thank you, Little Shop of Horrors for the perfect song to represent how depressing things just got in this sexy bathroom. My apologies.)
“There were places I thought about going, but I never got around to it. Which was bad planning on my part, since a lot of teachers crash and burn in their first few years, or lose faith and shut down to make it to retirement. I swore if I ever felt that way, I’d leave and make room for someone younger and still idealistic. Or, you know, take a year off and hang out with my friends until I got my groove back.”
His expression is thoughtful. “I never felt that passionately about my job. Actively combing through investors’ private financials to find something incriminating isn’t all that uplifting. But I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who really loved what they did until recently, when I met my brother-in-law. Seamus really loves making beer and being a dad. And now I’ve met you.”
“You said beer, so now you’re probably expecting a Samuel Adams comment about him being a maltster and having nothing to do with the beer named after him, but I’m not going to give it to you.” I watch him turn off the water and feel my temperature rise like the steam coming from the tub. “Also, you’ve obviously been hanging out with the wrong people until recently.”
“Without a doubt. Why don’t you get in while I get you a towel?”
He disappears into the bedroom and I question all my previous skills as a seducer of men. I carefully finish undressing, telling myself he probably isn’t coming back and there’s no point in letting this perfect spa setting go to waste while I brood.
Serious conversations about job satisfaction and sexy couple tubs do not mix. I know this. But the new dynamic is confusing me. Sharing personal information and talking about my work with the man I’m having sex with never happens. This is a new dance and I don’t know the steps.
What I do know is that some men get profoundly uncomfortable when I talk shop. As if mentioning the word “children” will suddenly throw them into a thirty-year mortgage with a nagging partner and a kid who needs a ride to soccer practice when all he wants to do is take a nap after his day at the office.
He asked about your work.
People ask things they don’t want the answers to all the time. Like “How are you?”
No one ever really wants to know the actual answer to that.
How does anyone do this? From my observations, relationships are basically sex and friendship combined. It’s like crossing the streams. All my past experience tells me not to do it. To back away from the path filled with landmines before it’s too late.
You’re not going anywhere for a while. What have you got to lose?
The list is long. How much time do you have?
He appears beside me and sets the towels down next to the tub. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he informs me, so calmly that it takes a moment for it to register.
Really? “Okay.”
Maybe listening to me ramble actually turns him on. It could happen. Some people think they’re horses.
Michael cups my face in his hands and tilts it back so he can take what he wants. My lips part for him instinctively, welcoming the tongue that tangles with mine and tells me that the mood is not ruined at all and the seduction never stopped.
Fuck the bath, I’m ready to get dirty again.
I groan when he reluctantly releases me. “For the record, I love how much you enjoy what you do and I want to hear more. But for now, you’re going to get your naked ass in that tub, wash up and relax before I forget what we’re doing here.”
“I am?” This man commanding me to relax gives me an erection. Another new thing I’m learning about myself. “You can’t just kiss me like that and then tell me to relax, Michael,” I grumble.
“I just did.”
“Whatever.” I step into the hot water and almost groan out loud. Oh, that’s the stuff. I sink into the bubbles as he watches, and all the ligaments and tendons that took a beating yesterday and last night make their appreciation known.
Floating in a tub that’s almost bigger than my entire bathroom is an interesting experience. This is what being spoiled must feel like. Taking a brunch time bubble bath instead of being a lunchroom monitor for rowdy tweenagers. It would be way too easy to get used to this. The lemongrass smell is relaxing, and even the sounds the bubbles make as they pop are soothing, clearing out the facts and worries that fight for attention in my head. Now there’s only one left.