Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Sliding my free hand down her waist, I move it back up under the edge of her shirt, and she whimpers against my tongue when my hand comes in contact with her skin. She’s so soft, so warm. I press closer, taking more, then I groan in frustration when I hear the kids upstairs. Ripping my mouth away from hers, I drop my forehead to the top of her head and attempt to catch my breath, feeling her lips skim my jaw when she lets her head fall back against the wall. My cock throbs in response, and my fingers dig into her side as I attempt to ground myself and calm the fuck down before the kids inevitably come downstairs.
“Morning,” she says quietly, and I laugh, hearing her do the same before I pull back to look her in the eye.
“Morning.” I smooth my fingers across her jaw while studying her smile.
“You could have just said you weren’t mad about me bringing Pippin over.”
“I could have, but then I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you.”
“True.” She bites her lip, then her nose wrinkles. “Is something burning?”
“Shit.” I push away from her and walk to the oven. Opening it up, a plume of smoke and steam pelts me in the face. Grabbing an oven mitt, I take the bacon out while the smoke alarm begins to blare. I put the pan in the sink and flip on the water while Nalia finds a dish towel and starts swinging it around over her head under the fire alarm.
“What’s happening?” Billie yells while feet pound down the stairs. I grab another towel and start swinging it over my head, and move to the back door, opening it up.
“Everything’s okay, the bacon is just burnt,” I assure all the kids when they come running into the kitchen.
“Do we need to call the police?” Coop covers his mouth and nose.
“You wouldn’t call the police, you’d call the fire department,” Billie tells him, rolling her eyes.
“Actually, you’d just call 911, and they would direct the right people here,” Zuri says with a deadpan expression. Billie blinks at her, then bursts out laughing along with Coop and Cat.
“You’re hilarious,” she tells Zuri, ruffling her hair, and Zuri grins.
Finding Nalia’s gaze across the room, we smile at each other.
“Alright,” I grab everyone’s attention. “Let’s get some windows opened.” The kids all break apart and start opening windows while Nalia and I continue swinging towels around over our heads.
It takes us twenty minutes to get the room clear of the haze of smoke, and it still smells like burnt bacon as we eat breakfast and long after the kids complete their projects later in the evening.
Eighteen
NALIA
“Dad and I were thinking of getting everyone together this Sunday for a barbecue since the weather is probably going to start changing soon, and we’ll need to close the pool,” Mom tells me as I type up an e-mail to a client who inquired about changing the tile they picked out.
“That sounds good.” I look over at her since we’re on FaceTime. “Are you going to invite everyone or just our family?” By our family, I mean my parents and all my siblings, by everyone, I mean my dad’s brothers and all their kids, which there are a lot.
“Everyone, since Hanna and her husband will also be in town.” She pauses, then says, sounding unsure, “You’re welcome to bring a few guests if you’d like.”
My first instinct is to tell her that I won’t be bringing anyone, but then I think about Logan and the past few days that we’ve spent together. It’s probably way too soon for him to meet my entire family, but having met his parents, it might not be a big deal.
“I’ll ask Logan.”
“Okay.” She smiles brightly, and I laugh. “Oh, are you expecting someone?” she asks when my doorbell rings.
“No, it’s probably UPS just letting me know they put a package on the porch.” Getting up, I leave the half-written e-mail I was typing up and grab my cell before I walk down the hall to the front door. I swing it in and double blink when I find Logan standing outside dressed in jeans and a tee holding a brown paper bag.
“Hey, baby, I brought you lunch.” He wraps his free hand around my waist and drops his mouth to mine for a quick touch of his lips. Hearing my mom gasp, I clear my throat.
“Umm, Mom, I’m going to have to call you back.”
“I kind of figured.” She laughs. “Enjoy lunch and ask him about Sunday.”
“I will,” I mumble, telling her I love you before I end the call.
“What’s going on Sunday?” Logan asks, closing the door behind himself. Then he heads into the kitchen, and I follow.
“My parents are having a barbecue.” I watch him place the bag he has on the counter.