Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“I have cooked plenty of times.” I grabbed the eggs and bacon and headed over to the table just as the oven timer started beeping to announce the biscuits were done. I turned back, getting flustered that things seemed to be happening so fast, and now everyone was going to be thinking about how I was cooking just because I had company. Did people cook for their buddies, treat their visit like a special occasion? I know I never had. And now here I was acting like my mom, dragging out the food and trying to entertain.
Sensing my anxiety, Kage held up a hand to me. “I’ll get the biscuits. You just put those on the table.” He picked up the hot pads from the counter and pulled the biscuits from the oven, setting them on the wire cooling rack next to the stove. Then he turned to me. “Where are the plates and utensils?”
Braden jumped up and opened the cabinet that held our mismatched plates, apparently interested in lending a hand now that Kage was the one he’d be helping. “You get those, I’ll get the silverware. I already got the paper towels, which you never signed, by the way. You don’t really have to use blood. I have a sharpie somewhere around here.”
Kage laughed as he grabbed a stack of plates. “Just chill, man. I’ll sign something better than a paper towel for you.”
“Sorry, I was just worried you’d leave before I got something.”
“I’ll be in town for a while, so no worries.”
“You will?” I blurted. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, how long? Won’t your uncle…” I trailed off, unsure of exactly what my objection was to Kage hanging around for a while. We weren’t any more conspicuous as a couple in Georgia than we were in Nevada.
“You want me to go?” The wounded tone of his voice cut deep, and I immediately thought of our visit to my parents’ house. No way were we going to have a replay of that.
“Hell, no,” I told him resolutely. “Of course not. I was just thinking about your situation, that’s all. We haven’t really discussed it in detail.” I raised my eyebrows at him— a not-too-subtle hint that there were things that probably needed to be succinctly spelled out, but not right now, and not in front of my friends.
His stern expression challenged me, nearly forced me to look away. “I think we’ve said all that needs to be said on the subject. At this point, we’re just talking in circles.”
“What do your PR people say?”
“I don’t answer to them. I’m the boss. I pay their fucking salaries.”
The raw anger in his voice stunned me, and all I could do was sit down and start absently serving my breakfast. I barely even registered what I was putting on the plate.
“You gonna eat all the eggs?” Trey asked.
“Sorry.” I glanced down at the heaping pile of eggs and started scraping them back into the bowl. Kage crossed the room and leaned against the counter. The borrowed t-shirt rode too high in that position, skimming just above his belly button and exposing a strip of tan flesh that had me distracted, salivating.
Trey started laughing. “Jeez, Jamie. Make up your mind. Do you want all of the eggs, or none?”
I looked down and discovered that I’d scraped every bit of egg back into the serving bowl. “Oh, forget it.” I slammed my empty plate down on the table and folded my arms across my chest. “Y’all just eat. I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You don’t need bacon anyway,” Kage pointed out. “And definitely not those biscuits. You still need to watch what you eat, even when I can’t be around to help.”
“Yes, daddy,” I said, bitterness making my voice tight. “Do you know how ridiculous you look trying to be all bossy while wearing my clothes that are too small for you? That shirt is practically a cutoff.”
“Yeah?” Suddenly the edge was gone from his demeanor, and his tone was playful. “You don’t think I look authoritative enough in your shirt? How about this?” He pulled it up over his head, balled it up, and threw it at me. I caught it without thinking, because all I was conscious of was his bare chest and abdomen, and the fact that we were standing in the kitchen with my friends looking on. I wanted to cover him with a dish towel or something.
He stalked toward me with a cocky swagger that had my knees melting, backing me into a corner formed by the edge of the refrigerator and the wall. “Can I be your daddy now?” he asked, resting his hand on the wall behind my head and leaning in.
I stared at him, swallowing around the dry piece of wood that was my tongue, feeling it catch in my throat. His dick was within inches of mine, and I could smell the soap on his skin and feel his breath against my cheek. I tried not to make eye contact with him, but I couldn’t ignore the proximity of his body. He knew it, too; the lecherous grin on his face was proof of that. He was purposely goading me, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. My head was a swirl of confusion, and my cock was hard. I was within seconds of saying fuck it and wrapping my legs around his waist. I wanted to feel his steely length pressing against me through the fabric of those dangerously revealing sweat pants.