Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
One and done, I tell myself. “What are we doing here, Reese?” I ask, but as he shifts slightly, I become aware of an impending need that takes precedence over my question. “Hold that answer. I have no choice but to announce that I have to pee. Really badly.”
“Is that right?” He chuckles.
“Yes. Which means I must request that you immediately remove your leg from my leg and, before I stand up, which always makes these situations worse, direct me to the bathroom.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes. I didn’t go all night last night. Get up!”
“All right, all right. The bathroom is immediately to the left by the stairs right off the entryway.” He lifts his leg and releases me.
I roll away, immediately aware of how very naked I am and since I don’t exactly have time to dress right now, I tug on the blanket that we’ve been covered up with. I start to walk, taking it with me, but after one step I realize that I’ve left Reese naked and uncovered. I rotate to find him shifting to a sitting position. And yes, indeed, he is one hundred percent as naked as I thought and it’s a beautiful sight.
He arches a brow in my direction, mischief and understanding in his eyes. “I thought you had to pee?”
“I do.”
Mischief lights his blue eyes, sprinkles of sunlight in their depths. “Then why are you standing there?”
“Because you’re naked,” I say, seeing no reason to deny the obvious. He is naked. And perhaps the most perfect male specimen I’ve ever seen up close and personal.
“If you keep standing there,” he warns “I’m going to pull you back over here, make sure you’re naked as well, and say good morning properly.”
“Oh,” I say. “No. That’s not possible at this very moment.” His phone starts to ring, and he snatches up his pants. “That’s the second call,” I say, dashing across the room as I hear him say, “Hello,” into his phone.
I hurry past the couches and think about my clothes. I backtrack and scoop up my bra, dress, and shoes, though my panties appear to be missing. I have delayed my relief so long that I need to pee ten times worse than moments before. So much so that I have to walk cautiously, but quickly, toward said relief. I enter the hallway, and sure enough, there is an archway just to the left of the living room entryway. I dart through it and find the winding stairwell covered in the same beautiful mahogany hardwood as the rest of the house. To my left beside those stairs is a doorway. I pull it open, and sure enough, it’s the bathroom.
Hurrying inside the small room that just has a toilet and a fancy white ceramic sink, I drop the blanket and do my business. Once I’m done, I walk to the sink, wash my hands, and look in the mirror, and good grief. My hair is standing on end. And, of course, day-old makeup minus lipstick is never flattering. I dare to open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and find toothpaste, floss, and a toothbrush. I grab the toothpaste and use my finger and the floss to do a pretty good job on my mouth. There is no hairbrush to save the mess on my head and I’m not washing my face with hand soap.
I grab the white ceramic sink and try to process the fact that I’m naked in Reese’s guest bathroom, the morning after having all kinds of wonderful sex with him. And I’m not really sorry and I don’t think he is either. I am, however, confused. This isn’t how I thought this would play out, and I don’t really know what I feel right now. I should go. Or should I stay?
I decide clothing gives me options. I quickly dress, and I’ve just stepped into my shoes when I hear, “Cat,” at the door.
Inhaling, I’m nervous all over again, which is silly. I’ve been naked with him. I wanted this as a one and done. I force myself to open the door, and I’m rewarded with another wonderful view. I find him shirtless, his pants from last night on but unzipped. His eyes are hot as they look me over.
“I liked you better in the blanket,” he says, resting his arm on the doorframe above his head, all that springy, dark hair on his chest, hard to not track here and there and everywhere. “Even better without it.”
“I liked you better without it, too,” I dare. “That’s why I took it.”
He snags my waist and walks me to him. “Stop trying to make this an awkward morning after.”
“I’m not.”
He arches a brow.
I say, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I go back to my pre-bathroom thinking. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
“We’ll figure it out. But we do have a slight situation. I called Royce Walker last night to ask for some help on this trial. He and his brother seem to think they found something. They’re on their way here now.”