Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m just being a girl.”
“My girl,” I replied and picked up her hand, kissing the knuckles. “Mine.”
“Yours.”
“Finish eating. I need to take you home and claim you.”
She muttered about me being a caveman, and she was right. I felt like one. I wanted to beat my chest and announce to the world she was mine. Throw her over my shoulder and take her home and have my wicked way with her until she screamed my name.
But I would settle for feeding her, walking hand in hand with her, and holding her all night if that was what she needed.
Because she came first. Today, tomorrow, and always.
It was a perfect evening. After dinner, we strolled through one of the neighborhoods adjacent to Kassie’s. The streets were a little wider, the homes set back from the road. The street had many older Victorian houses, built when the town was first settled. We didn’t talk much, content to hold hands and be together. As we came close to the end of a street, I stopped, looking at a house.
“Wow,” I muttered. “I remember this place.”
She chuckled. “You should. This was another house whose garden you liked to raid on a regular basis.”
“The Harrisons.”
She sighed. “It was always the prettiest house in town. I saw inside once with my mom. It was incredible. All wood and stained glass. Such a shame it’s empty.”
“Have the owners passed?”
“Mr. Harrison passed about four years ago. She lives with their daughter outside of Ottawa.” She smiled sadly. “They leased it to a company for a while, then a family was in it, but it’s sat empty the last year. It was on the market, but there isn’t much call for giant houses like this one. I heard they’re trying to sell it for the land.” She paused. “Shame—a developer will probably buy it and throw up a bunch of townhomes. Tear down a beautiful home and build boxes.”
“They’ll look out of place in the neighborhood,” I replied with a frown.
She shrugged. “Progress, I suppose.” She tugged my hand. “Let’s go home. Looking at this makes me sad.” She yawned. “And I’m tired.”
I slid my arm around her waist and tucked her close. “Okay, let’s go.”
Though I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at the house again.
The next morning, I was up early. Kassie was still sleeping, curled on her side, a small smile on her lips. I bent close and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I have a meeting,” I murmured. “I’ll be back.”
“It’s six a.m.,” she protested.
“I have a lot to do, woman. Go back to sleep.”
She pouted, looking adorable. “No sleepy sexy times today,” she muttered.
I glanced at the clock and tugged my shirt over my head, then kicked off my pants. “I can be a little late,” I assured her, sliding back into bed.
Her giggles soon became the low whimpers and moans I liked so much. I took my time, enjoying feeling her wrapped around me as I moved in long, leisurely thrusts, whispering all sorts of dirty promises into her ear and kissing her neck.
She didn’t stir when I got up again, and I left her sleeping. I was all for starting every day that way. I was sure she would agree.
John smirked at me when I sat across from him at the Dill. “I thought you were standing me up,” he commented. “But I think I can see why you’re late. You look, ah, pleased with yourself.”
Laughing, I shrugged, not really caring. It couldn’t be that bad.
“So what was so important you offered to buy me breakfast?” he asked, winking at Quinn as she poured coffee for me. She wasn’t as friendly as she usually was, so I decided I needed to set the record straight.
“First, two of whatever is on special, please,” I asked Quinn. “And second, I’m moving to Richton, and Kassie and I are getting married.”
I wasn’t sure I had ever heard a squeal as high as Quinn emitted. Then she flung her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. She looked at John, who was grinning. “He did get his head out of his ass!”
I chuckled. “I did.”
She picked up the coffeepot. “I need to call Kassie.”
“She’s, ah, sleeping,” I advised. “She was really, really tired.”
“I can see that. You look like you went through a wind tunnel.” Quinn winked. “Or, in this case, Kassie’s fingers. Repeatedly. Do something with your hair, you animal.” She leaned down. “And, Oliver? Your shirt is on inside out.” Laughing, she headed to the kitchen, and I glanced at my reflection, then shook my head. They were right. It was really bad, and my shirt was not only inside out but backward. I ran my fingers through the mess, then gave up. Between last night’s passionate coupling and this morning’s sleepy sex, today’s look was all Kassie.