Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He chuckles, his breathing heavy. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“I would. Come here. Let me make you come.”
Anthony stands but shakes his head. “Later. I—” The sound of his stomach growling interrupts him, making us laugh. “I forgot to eat dinner last night.”
“Jesus. None of that. I’m gonna feed you every meal if I have to. Breakfast first, and then later I’ll play with that perfect fucking body of yours until we’re both sex drunk and drained.” I take his mouth, push my tongue between his lips, taste my release on him and crave more.
“I like the sound of that,” Anthony says.
I like the sound of it too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Anthony
Kason’s house is gorgeous. It’s a huge resort-style home, with high ceilings and a crisp, clean look with white walls, built-in shelves, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I follow Kason into his kitchen that looks like it would be impossible to run out of cabinet or counter space. A large window above the granite countertops overlooks his backyard, which is nestled into the mountains.
It’s big for someone like me. We’ve always lived in apartments or small trailers, sometimes even motels, when I was growing up. Then my mom took off and I ended up with my uncle, where everything was oversized and extravagant. It made me feel uncomfortable, like there was too much space. Why did two people need all those rooms? All those things?
Kason’s house, though, has this homey, lived-in feel to it. There’s a comfort here I never felt while living with my uncle and aunt, and I know it comes from him.
He goes to the sink first and washes his hands.
“Since I had mine all over your dick and ass, I should probably do that too,” I tease, gently hip-checking him as I join him at the counter.
“Best hello ever,” he teases, and I roll my eyes, secretly pleased that he enjoyed it. That he enjoys me. “How about omelets, breakfast potatoes, and bagels?”
“Only if I can help.”
“Yep. We’re cutting potatoes first.”
He grabs a couple from a basket, washes them, and then the two of us start cutting them into small cubes. We chat about hockey and Lush, but the whole time, my mind is stuck on a silent, persistent question.
Are we boyfriends?
Does dating equal boyfriends? I have no experience with this stuff. Easier to just hook up and be on my way. Then I know what to expect and don’t—A sharp pain stings the tip of my finger. “Shit.” I drop the knife, jerking my arm back.
Great. I cut myself. Because that’s awesome.
“Oh damn. I’m sorry.” Kason grabs my wrist and leads me to the sink.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t cut my finger.”
He shrugs. “I can still be sorry.” He puts my hand under the water, as if I can’t do it myself, blood making the water run pink. “Don’t move.” Kason turns off the water, walks away, and comes back a moment later with a first-aid kit.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe I still want to play doctor with you.” He pumps his brows, and I can’t hold back my grin.
I watch him as he cleans it with antiseptic pads, then puts ointment on. “You’re a caretaker.”
“With you I seem to be, don’t I?”
“It can’t just be with me.” Why would I matter that much?
“In a way, I suppose I take care of my parents and my sister and her wife. I would with Rylan, so I guess that’s how you know I really like you. I want to fix everything.”
Blood rushes through my ears, making me dizzy. Kason Maddox is hands down the best man in the whole world. “You can’t fix everything for others.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to fix the things I can.” He puts a Band-Aid on my finger. “Like this. I could fix this, so I did. All better.” He kisses the tip of my finger, and there’s a strong fear I might pass out, that my heart is beating too fast, too hard, all wrapped up in this man standing in front of me. “Breathe, little dancer. Be good for me. Let me hear you take a nice, deep breath.”
Wait. Am I not breathing? Oh no. That’s not it. I’m breathing too fast. It’s matching my heart, the room around me spinning—
“You’re doing so good.”
I try to focus on his words, on the lulling sound of his voice. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I losing my shit right now?
“That’s it. Take a deep breath.”
The room gets fuzzy, but I concentrate on Kason, on inhaling when he does, exhaling when he does.
“Such a good boy,” he soothes, and it helps. Why does it help?
It takes a few minutes, but eventually my vision clears, everything inside me slowing to a more normal rate.
“Do you have panic attacks?” he asks.