Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Sam carried me upstairs and put me in the shower. While at the hospital, I had thought that I would let the water soothe all the pain away, and I’d be in there for hours, but I ended up taking a quick one because I wanted to get in bed. Sam jumped in the shower next, and I got under the covers, found the tumbler of water there for me on my nightstand, took ibuprofen, and got comfortable. I turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, and I realized that sleeping was not going to happen. I had things to do.
“What’re you doing?” Sam asked when he came out of the bathroom to find me about to go out the door.
“I’m not actually sleepy,” I assured him. “I have things I wanted to do tonight.”
“Like?” he asked me, flipping the towel he’d used to dry his hair around his shoulders as he waited.
The thing was, the furry chest, wide and sculpted, was there on display. The washboard abs that most men his age no longer had, and the rest covered by a damp towel that was hugging his perfect ass and powerful thighs, had me distracted.
“Jory?”
My eyes snapped up from where the towel was knotted at his waist, to his face. “Yes?”
“What do you hafta do?” he asked me, crossing his tree-trunk arms, his biceps bulging with heavy muscle as he waited.
“What?”
He squinted. “Are you all right? Do you feel disoriented?”
I smiled at him, taking a step forward to slip my hands around his hips. “Do I sound disoriented, or something else?”
He stared down into my eyes, and I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his collarbone before I lifted up to kiss under his jaw.
“Oh no,” he growled at me, taking hold of my shoulders to keep me still, then letting go and forcibly moving my hands as he backpedaled quickly. Even with the bandage wrapped around my wrist, I could, hopefully, still get a towel off.
“No, no, no,” I coaxed him, reaching for him only to come up short, my fingers grazing the towel I was after. “Come here.”
He slipped around the end of our bed and stood there glaring at me. “You’re in pain.”
I nodded slowly. “A bit, yes. But I have neither a headache nor a concussion, so…I’m thinking that my other aches and pains will float away on a cloud of euphoria when I’ve got you buried inside of me.”
“On a cloud of what?”
“You heard me,” I assured him, gesturing for him. “Ditch the towel and lie down on the bed. I’m thinking now that riding you sounds even better.”
“You’re hurt, jackass,” he reminded me. “You need to rest and––”
“I need to get laid,” I informed him. “And it kind of makes sense.”
“I can’t wait to hear this bit of fucked-up logic,” he told me, turning for his armoire. “Let me put on some––”
“No,” I ordered, and he stayed where he was. “I want you naked and wanting me and––”
“I always want you,” he made clear. “But for one, you’re hurt, and for two, your kids, and the two that don’t belong to us, all wanna come up here and be near you to make sure you’re really okay, so how long do you think––”
“You can tell them we have to talk about what happened tonight, or about something that went on at my work, or yours, or that we have to discuss that I blew our Christmas budget to complete and utter hell and you have to punish me,” I finished, dropping my voice low, hoping for seductive as I waggled my eyebrows at him.
“I’m sorry, go back to our exploded budget,” he demanded, glowering at me.
“Lock the door, ditch that towel, and get in bed,” I countered.
He shook his head.
“Yes.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m banged up,” I argued, “but that’s what I was trying to tell you.”
He watched me as I made my way to our bedroom door, locked it, and then walked back toward him.
It was impressive how fast he scrambled around the bed, making sure it was back between us, without losing his towel. My knots, tucks, and fold-overs never stayed secure like that.
I growled in frustration.
“You’re very cute, but explain.”
“My desire is cute?” I dared him to say it was.
“No. Don’t get off track,” he warned me, and then got a look on his face like he figured something out. “Are you hungry? Is your blood sugar dipping?”
“Sam!”
“Just tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”
“I just—I was scared, you know? They hit me and knocked me around, and I basically had my power taken away for that short amount of time. But then Chris Becker was there and told those guys who I was, and then you showed up and everything that was taken away was back.”