Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 70488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Just wash one,” he suggested. “Or use a coffee cup.”
I pointed at them. “They’re too far up there. I’m only five-foot-three…”
“Five-foot-three?” he rumbled, coming closer.
He came into the splash of moonlight spilling in from the kitchen window, and that was when I saw he was wearing a pair of sweatpants…nothing else.
I’d thought the sweatpants craze was a weird thing to go goo-goo eyed over. I mean…they were sweatpants. Men wore them all the time.
But seeing normal men in sweatpants and Huxley in sweatpants…
Those were two separate things.
Huxley filled out all of his pants rather nicely.
But it was as I was looking down at his sweatpants, taking in the bulge at the front, that I realized that the man wasn’t wearing any underwear under those sweatpants.
There was no way, because there were things that swayed and bounced as he made his way toward me.
“Maybe five-foot-two and a little bit,” I found myself saying, but still staring.
He stopped in front of me, then reached over my shoulder above my head to pull down a coffee cup.
He handed it to me, and I wrapped my fingers around the cold ceramic.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He watched me hold the empty cup for a long moment, then took the cup from my hands and got me some ice out of the ice maker.
Or he would have, except when the “ice” came out, it wasn’t ice. But Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
“What the…”
I giggled at his puzzled expression as he pulled a red-wrapped treat out of the cup.
“I don’t drink ice water,” I admitted.
“I can see that,” he murmured as he dumped the cups on the counter beside me, then filled up the cup with water. “You don’t like ice, but you like frozen Reese’s?”
“I don’t use ice. And anyone that’s a Reese’s connoisseur knows that the only way to eat Reese’s Cups are frozen. The shapes are fine at room temperature, but the cups?” I reached for one on the counter and unwrapped it. “Perfection when they’re frozen.”
I popped the chocolate into my mouth and groaned.
He placed the coffee cup next to my hip, then reached for one of my Reese’s.
Since I liked him, I allowed it.
But usually I didn’t share them with anyone. Not even my brother.
I reached for the cup of water and drank it down.
The shivers hit me almost immediately, and I was reminded that I was wearing a crop-top t-shirt and panties.
“What are you in there giggling about?” he asked as he reached for another Reese’s.
I jerked my chin toward my bedroom, then grabbed the rest of the candy. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”
He came into my room and stopped as he stared at the screen.
“Pretty,” he mused as he saw the tall, long-haired Asian man in his battle regalia.
“Sexy,” I corrected. “I love C-Dramas.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and all my previous candy wrappers hit the floor.
He looked down with amusement on his lips and said, “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”
I shrugged. “That’s if you actually have a problem. I don’t have a problem.”
“If you say so,” he mused as he gathered the trash he had just dropped and placed it on the end table.
Then, surprising me, he pushed my blankets to the side and sat down, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he said, “Catch me up.”
So I did.
Eight hours’ worth.
“So he’s really a soldier?” he guessed.
“He hasn’t admitted as much yet, but you suspect,” I said as I lay down on my belly and kicked my legs up behind me, somehow completely okay with my near nudity. “My guess is he’s some high-up general. Or maybe the crown prince. Or something.”
“What do you want to bet that she won’t know until the last episode?”
I paused so I could see the number of episodes. “I have thirty-two episodes left. Surely he tells her before that.”
“Doubtful,” he mused. “These C-Dramas are slow burns. Really slow burns. I’ll bet that they don’t even kiss until the last ten episodes.”
“Have you watched this one before?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.
He had his belly button full of balled-up Reese’s wrappers.
My lips twitched as he popped another one in there then reached for the last candy on the bed.
I noticed he went for the hot ones, and not the cold ones I’d just brought in here.
How thoughtful of him.
“Not this one in particular, no,” he admitted. “But when I run out of anime I want to watch, I look for C-Dramas. Or K-Dramas. They’re almost like anime.”
I turned over on my side and went onto one elbow so that I could look at him directly. “You watch anime?”
His eyes went to my hips, then my thighs, and the triangle of my panties that covered my pubic area before coming back up to meet mine. “Blame it on Dragon Ball Z. I fell in love with it when I was a kid and never looked back.”