Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Casey nodded, taking it from me. “He’s looking at her with so much love, and she looks so happy. See the dress? It’s their wedding day.”
“She does look happy. I know one of the guys at the station does photography as a hobby. I’ll ask him about having digital replacements done.”
She beamed at me. “Thank you.”
I smiled and touched her cheek. “Anything, Pixie. Anything for you.”
She leaned her face into my touch, making me feel warm. “We’ll check out the box of photographs,” I informed her, then yawned and chuckled. “Tomorrow.” I yawned again. “Sorry. Long day.”
“Let’s go to bed. You can read the journal and letters tomorrow.”
“Great.”
“Okay.”
We climbed the steps at my place, no questions asked about where she would be sleeping. I pulled my shirt off over my head and grimaced. “I need a soak.”
She looked around. “You have a hot tub hidden around here?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I plan on one out back. But for now, I have a tub in the guest room bath.”
“You have a tub?”
I held out my hand, and she let me pull her across the hall and into the other bathroom. She clapped her hands in glee. “Oh my God, it’s an old claw-foot tub!”
“Original to the house. Long and deep—great when my muscles are sore.”
She nudged me. “You’re a bubble bath guy, aren’t you?”
“Never had one,” I confessed. “Hot water and my rubber ducky, and I’m good.”
She laughed gaily. “Well, get in and soak. It’ll do you good.”
“You wanna join me, Pixie?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I turned on the water, plugging the drain, letting the tub fill. It was a good size—plenty of room for the two of us, given how tiny she was. Casey disappeared, returning clutching a bottle. “I haven’t had a bath for so long, but I have bubbles.”
“Oh, ah…”
She grinned. “Not fruity. Smell.”
I inhaled and was pleasantly surprised. The liquid smelled like citrus. Light. Airy.
“Fine,” I huffed.
She added a squirt, the bubbles foaming instantly. “I need to go put up my hair.”
She hurried away, pulling off her shirt, showing the bare expanse of her back. I could hardly wait to feel it against my skin.
I dropped my sweats and dug under the sink for a couple of things, then slid into the steaming water, the heat feeling good on my sore muscles. I sank into the tub, hanging my legs over the sides so my torso was submerged. I stuck the pillow under my neck, letting the water rise, the bubbles expanding into a mountain of foam.
Casey reappeared, wrapped in a towel. Her hair was piled on her head, and she held the cotton across her perfect breasts like a talisman. I grinned at her and balanced the rubber ducky I had on my knee.
“Come on in, Pixie. My duck is friendly, and he wants to say hi.” I winked. “So does my cock. He has a lot to tell you, actually.”
She looked between the duck and my face, unsure how to react. I squished the duck, and he emitted an odd quacking noise.
She dropped the towel. I caught my breath at the sight of her creamy skin, heavy breasts, and the sweet cleft between her legs. I had missed all of them. I held out my hand. “Come here.”
She slid into the tub, settling between my legs, and leaned her head on my chest. I sighed in contentment, feeling the tension begin to drain away. Simply having her close did that for me.
“Your duck is awfully quiet. Not even a peep,” she murmured after a few moments of silence.
I held the duck in front of her.
“‘Quack, quack, quack,’ said the little rubber ducky,
‘Keep rubbing back on me, and you’ll get a little fucky.’”
Her laughter was loud, and I kept going.
“Quack, quack, quack, the ducky loves your rack.
We’ll start off in here, and we’ll finish in the sack.”
Her amusement echoed off the tiles, making me laugh with her.
She took the duck from my hand and dropped him into the tub. He disappeared in the mountains of foam.
“Don’t give up firefighting,” she mumbled, still laughing.
“Probably a good idea,” I replied.
“But A for effort.”
“Dammit, that was a great poem for being off the cuff,” I teased her, bending to nip her neck.
She shook her head in silent amusement.
“Why do you have a rubber ducky?” she asked a moment later.
I chuckled. “My ducky surprises you?”
“It is a bit out of character for you.”
“Lou gave it to me years ago, not long after I moved in. I told her I used the tub on occasion for aches. She thought it was funny.”
“She’d be shocked at the things he says,” she teased.
“I highly doubt that. What would shock her is the fact that I still have it. Or that I showed it to you.”
“You don’t show your ducky to other lady visitors?” she asked.