Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I pull my eyes from Sage’s meal and shake my head then mutter, “Unless you have another stomach somewhere. I think my man might need it.”
Smiling big, he shakes his head then walks off.
“Your man, huh?” Sage asks, and my eyes go back to his and my stomach dips when I see the look there. “I like that.”
“You do?”
“Been waiting a long time to hear you call me that,” he admits, and that warmth I’ve been feeling in the pit of my stomach spreads through my chest.
“Thank you,” I blurt, and his focus on me changes. “For waiting for me, I mean.”
The focus in his gaze changes to heat. “You better eat before I say fuck it to the food and carry your pretty little ass out of here over my shoulder so I can take you home and show you my gratitude in a different way.”
“Right,” I breathe, picking up my fork and shoving it into my salad, taking a huge bite before I tell him I wouldn’t mind him doing just that.
“I’m not even sure where to start,” he says, and I chew and swallow my bite while watching him look at his plate.
“The middle,” I supply helpfully, and he grins at me then digs into his food. Surprisingly, I eat all of my salad and he finishes more than half of his burrito. When the check arrives, I try to pay, but like always, he doesn’t let me. After arguing for a few minutes, I give in to him and he pays the bill.
After that he tucks me into his car and we head back to his place, where he leaves me with a soft kiss outside his bedroom door. I stand here watching him after that kiss as he moves to the spare room. I think about joining him there, but the part of me that knows we still need to work on getting to know each other keeps me in his bed, where I fall asleep surrounded by his scent.
Chapter 9
Kim
STRETCHING MY ARMS above my head, I blink my eyes open to a view of crystal-blue skies overhead through the skylight. I don’t know what woke me, but something did, since I was sleeping better than I have in forever. I roll to my side and press my face into the pillow, breathing in the scent of Sage that kept me company all night.
Hearing a shuffle, thump, thump, shuffle, thump, thump coming from somewhere in the house, I frown and sit up. Tipping my head toward the door, I try to make out what the noise could possibly be. It doesn’t sound like the normal hammer to wood that greeted me the first few days I stayed with Sage; it’s different.
Curiosity has me getting out of bed and slipping on my sweater to go in search of the sound. Moving past the kitchen and down the hall on the opposite side of the house, I finally locate the noise and pause in the doorway, resting my shoulder against the doorjamb. The room isn’t bare like the other two rooms in the house that haven’t been renovated. This room has gym equipment shoved into the space, including a weight machine, a stair climber, and a treadmill.
Sage, in all his shirtless glory, is on the treadmill in the middle of the room with a pair of large headphones covering his ears, wearing nothing but basketball shorts and sneakers. His profile is to me, so I can’t see all of him, but from my vantage point, I can make out the muscles in his arm that is cocked at the elbow. The side of his chest and back flex as he runs at full speed, hitting the treadmill hard every time his feet find purchase.
“Lord.” My mouth goes dry, and the space between my legs starts to tingle as sweat makes every single one of his muscles glisten. Reaching forward, he hits the button on the machine, and I jump when the sound startles me out of my perusal. He must see me jump, because his eyes come to me and a small smile spreads across his mouth. Pulling off his headphones, he drops them to the holder on top of the machine then hits the button that brings the treadmill to a complete stop.
“Morning,” he says, walking toward me while wiping his face and chest with the towel he grabs off the weight bench.
“Morning,” I reply, licking my lips and letting my eyes slide over him, feeling his do the same in return.
“Did you sleep in that?” he asks, and I look down at what I have on, feeling my eyes widen when I notice he can see all of me through the thin, white lace fabric covering my private bits. I didn’t put on my sleep shorts last night when I put on my tank top and got into bed, and I didn’t even think about pulling them on this morning when I got up. And the sweater I dragged on barely reaches the top of my panties.