Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I glanced at my watch and tugged at my numb arm, gently rolling Dexter off me.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Four o’clock. Do you have to go to the shop?”
Dexter hummed and burrowed under the covers. “Five more minutes.”
I dressed, used the bathroom, and returned to find him snoring away. “Wake up. Alberto will be waiting for you.”
“Ughhhh…”
“Come on. I’ll make coffee.” I pulled the duvet away, admiring his toned back and beautiful ass before delivering a quick smack on his rear. “Get dressed.”
I made coffee and poured some into a thermos I found in a kitchen cupboard. I helped myself and waited for him. That wasn’t the norm. We usually didn’t linger in the mornings. Whoever happened to be staying over left without fanfare of any sort. Dexter was a big boy. He’d been running his business and looking after himself for years. He didn’t need my help getting out the door.
No, this was on me. I had a bad habit of taking on the role of caregiver—whether or not I was needed. Maybe so, but in this case, I just wanted to help.
Dexter raced into the kitchen. His hair was slick with product, he had toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, and his tee was inside out. He shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers and lifted one onto the barstool to tie his laces.
“You made coffee.”
“I told you I was going to.” I pushed the thermos in front of him and licked toothpaste from his lips. “For you.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you.”
“Hmph. I’m leaving.” I started for the foyer. “Fix your shirt.”
“What’s wrong with my—oh.”
At that hour of the morning, I should have had a decent rein on my self-control, but the sight of a bare-chested Dexter fumbling with a shirt and messing his hair was too irresistible. I moved to his side, captured his face, and sealed our lips as I snatched the fabric from his fingers. I broke the kiss, turned the pink donut T-shirt right-side out and yanked it over Dexter’s head. I flattened a stray piece of hair and made myself step away.
“Better.”
Dexter didn’t say anything. He just smiled, grabbed his keys, thermos, and a jacket. I followed him to the garage rather than the front door so he wouldn’t have to reset his alarm. We nodded and went our separate ways.
Even at four-thirty a.m., there was always a chance that someone might notice two cars coming from the same direction, traversing the empty streets to town. I checked my rearview mirror as Dexter turned left and veered toward the donut shop on Main Street while I headed straight for home. I caught my reflection and chuckled. This wasn’t smart, but it was fun.
“Want a latte?”
Not really, but I pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to Beau. “Thanks.”
“Put your money away. I got you.”
Beau patted my shoulder and got in line at Rise and Grind behind a middle-aged woman with frizzy blond hair. I cast a suspicious glance around Rise and Grind, my gaze snagging on the coffee-tude of the day—“Today’s good mood is sponsored by coffee. You’re welcome!”
I didn’t come here often, and I definitely wouldn’t have come midmorning on a Friday when the place was buzzing with regulars and weekend tourists, but I was in between projects at the mill and Beau wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I eyed my friend at the counter, blushing through his order. The poor guy had a big crush on Davey, the sassy redheaded barista, and he didn’t think anyone noticed. I huffed a laugh and pulled my cell from my pocket just as a message from Freya lit the screen.
12 weeks down, twenty-eight to go!
I smiled automatically. How do you feel?
Great! I’m going to my studio today. I have a lot to catch up on.
Did you tell Dexter?
Freya put an exclamation point on my text. Of course! He’s very excited. Have you seen him lately?
As a matter of fact, he’d ridden my cock a few hours ago, his hands clutching the bedpost behind me, his knees planted on either side of my thighs. I’d been his personal pogo stick, and I hadn’t minded at all.
Not something I was going to share with Freya, though…or anyone.
No, I lied.
Buy a donut if you get a chance and let me know if he’s extra happy.
I sent a thumbs-up and—
“What language is that, dude?” Beau held up a latte for me.
“Swedish.” I stuffed my phone in my pocket. “Thank you.”
“I forget you really are Thor sometimes. Too bad you don’t have an accent. Were you texting your mom or something?”
“A friend.”
Beau’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Who is she, man? Or…he?”
“Not that kind of friend. Ready to go?”
He blew a raspberry and scanned the store. “Uh…Micah and Lyle were supposed to be here, but—”