Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
His gaze sweeps me up and down as I remove my apron, and he walks over to me. He lifts me into his arms, his tongue hot and demanding as it invades my mouth. I feel the stiffness in his muscles under my fingertips, the only small tell he has when something has happened.
“I could get used to this,” he says as he wipes something from my cheek, and I realize it’s a bit of flour. “You look good in my kitchen.”
“You look good in my bed,” I reply, and his gaze darkens. Dawson steps away, and I’m left slightly jarred. I lean against the counter and cross my arms over my chest as I watch him unscrew the cork from the wine bottle like a man on a mission.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He pauses momentarily before continuing, and the pop echoes through the room. “Just work stuff.”
“You need to be more specific with me because when my father says ‘work stuff’ it may very well entail that he was a part of a drive-by.”
“I doubt your father does that himself these days,” he says, clearly distracted.
“Dawson,” I say impatiently. He sighs and licks his lips. Something has really got him bothered. “You can tell me anything?”
“It’s being dealt with. I want to selfishly enjoy tonight with you. Please.”
It’s the please that undoes me. I want to push further, but his mind is on a wild rampage. And if I can distract him from that, give him a moment of peace, then I’ll happily fulfill that role.
He pours us a glass of wine and takes a whiff of the pizza. “It smells delicious.”
I can’t help but smile, always pleased when someone appreciates my food. But especially Dawson.
“I did something today,” I say with a mischievous smile. His own smile is slow and playful, even though he doesn’t know what I’ve done. “But it’s a secret.”
“I love keeping your dirty little secrets,” he jokes.
“I got a tattoo.”
His eyebrows flick up. “Fuck me, Honey! If your father didn’t think I was a bad enough influence before, he will now.”
“That’s why it’s our little secret.” I press my finger to his lips, and he nips the tip of it.
“Okay, show me.”
“You have to be gentle because it’s still sore.” I lift my free-flowing yellow dress. His gaze darkens when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. “I haven’t been able to wear anything because of where it is.”
He leans over and sucks in a small breath as he admires the artwork. He brushes a thumb close to its edges. “You got a little bear,” he says quietly.
I drop my dress suddenly, too embarrassed. “Well, I figured since you got my lips tattooed on your cock, then maybe I could do this. But also, you know… if this doesn’t work out between us, I can laser it off. It’s no biggie and—”
He cuts me off as his hand grabs my jaw, and he pushes his lips to mine, claiming me. I melt into him immediately. His kiss is tender, then demanding and possessive. His grip is firm on my jaw as he devours me, and I let him.
He picks me up, his hands on my bare ass, and he places me on the counter.
“No!” I snap. “We are not letting this pizza go cold. Dinner first.”
Dawson dips his head to my shoulder with a grumble, and I laugh when he nips at my exposed shoulder. He perks back up, his gaze meeting mine. The desire is still a real and burning thing, but there’s something else there that I don’t yet entirely understand.
“What do you think your father would say if we told him we were getting married?”
I freeze at his insinuation. I haven’t really thought about marriage since my arranged disaster with Crue. And it seems like a sudden conversation with Dawson since we only just decided to be what? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Exclusive?
“You just want me to sign a contract,” I reply with an eye roll.
“Nope. No prenup, no contracts. Just you and me.”
I’m shocked because Dawson loves contracts, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or still playing. Dawson also knows how serious a commitment like marriage is to me—to my family and our name.
After the Crue and Rya incident, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get married. But as I thought about it more, I realized it was still something I sought. Something I want. I don’t ever plan on divorce. I’m not saying that divorce is a sin. Some people need to be divorced from their partners for any number of reasons, and that’s why I plan to take my time and be careful with who I pick as my permanent partner. I want to make sure my instincts are correct and that I’m marrying the right person.
“Are you serious?” I ask, pulling back from him.