Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I stare at her, wrapped in a towel, big brown eyes, perfect white teeth and olive skin, water beading on her bare shoulders. Her long dark hair is wet, and damn, she looks good enough to eat.
No clothes.... I like you naked.
"Sure." I glance back down the hall toward my bedroom. "Just a moment."
I march back into my bedroom and begin to rat through my drawer at double speed as I look for something suitable.
Damn it, why don’t I have any spare lingerie laying around? I smile as I imagine passing that through the crack in the door and the horrified face she would pull.
I grab a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. I go to the wardrobe and find a black bathrobe. Finally, I have a good use for this damn thing. I walk back down to find that the bathroom door is now closed, and I knock.
"Holly."
She opens the door slightly and peers through it as if I'm a wild animal.
"Here you are." I pass the clothes through the crack. She smells clean and like soap… my soap. Hmm… I get a visual of what she might look like under that towel and I feel my cock twitch in appreciation.
Stop it.
"Thank you," she says as she takes them from me and stands on her foot and then grimaces in pain once again.
"Are you okay?" I frown.
She hops as she keeps the weight from her foot. "Yes, I'm fine."
She closes the door in my face and my cock pitches a tent in my boxer shorts. Just fucking cut it out already. I walk into my bedroom and over to the wardrobe and I look for a pair of pants that will hide this thing. Quick, I need to hurry.
Fuck.
I find a black pair of jeans, throw them on and tuck my dick strategically in the waistband and look for the biggest t-shirt I can find. I pull a grey one over my shoulders. I look at my crotch in the mirror. All clear.
"This'll do."
Holly
I quickly dry myself off and pull on the clothes that Jack has brought in for me, a huge pair of boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. Thankfully there's a robe or otherwise my boobs would be on display without a bra. I hobble around as I get dressed and I look down at my ankle. It's beginning to swell. "Shit." I sit down to put my shorts on, unable to stand on one leg. I clean up the bathroom and wipe the floor with the towel and then hobble up the walkway. I find Jack sitting at the kitchen counter. I smile bashfully. "Thank you, I feel a lot better."
He sips a glass of amber fluid as his gaze drops to my foot. "How's your ankle?"
"It's okay." I shrug.
"Let me have a look at it." In one quick movement, he picks me up and sits me on the kitchen counter and my heart catches, he's so strong. His eyes flick up to me as if asking for approval and I nod. He peels my robe back and picks up my foot as he studies it. "It's swelling."
I nod. He runs his hand up the top of my foot and then underneath the arch. His hands are rough like sandpaper and I flinch.
"Sore?" he asks.
"Your hands are rough."
He breaks into a slow sexy smile as he concentrates on my foot.
"What?" I ask.
"No woman ever complained about my hands before." His eyes rise to meet mine. "They like ‘em rough."
I swallow the lump in my throat, jeez. I drop my shoulders as I pretend that isn’t the hottest thing I've ever heard. "Well, I guess I'm not used to it." I pull my foot from his clasp. "My foot is fine."
He goes to a cabinet and lifts down a metal box and rats through it and produces a bandage. "I'm going to wrap it."
"Honestly…"
"Just be quiet woman, I'm wrapping it," he interrupts me as he lifts my foot and begins to carefully wrap the bandage around my ankle. I watch him as I feel his hand on my calf muscle. He really seems to know what he's doing. "Are you a medic?"
"I'm a builder."
"Oh," I watch him, "I’ve never known a builder before. Growing up in New York it's not someone that you meet."
He wraps the bandage around and around.
"What kind of men live in New York?"
The player kind.
I shrug. "I don’t know, people who work in offices."
He nods. "Suits."
"Yeah."
He fastens my bandage with a small clip. "Yeah, I got nothing in common with suits."
I watch the huge muscles contract under his t-shirt as he moves. "I can imagine."
He picks me up and places me carefully on the sofa, he puts two cushions under my foot to elevate it. "Are you hungry?"
I bite my lip, I'm starving. It was raining so hard that I couldn’t see a shop along the way, that is if there even was one. "A piece of toast would be great. Do you have toast?" I ask.