Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
And since Lottie didn’t want to waste time commencing their fuck-a-thon (and Mo didn’t either), they’d walked back to his place and spent the rest of the afternoon doing that.
She hadn’t done a deep dive into his psyche about why he put up with the likes of Tammy.
Then again, he suspected she knew she’d already handled that.
He rejoined her in his bed, pulled the covers over them, curled her in his arms and started making out with her again.
His bed had definitely been broken in.
And there’d been some action, if not the full go, in her shower that morning.
So that left her couch in front of her TV and finishing up what they started in the shower and he could dream up new places to have her.
His couch was going to be one.
The island too.
And her kitchen counter.
And the couch he’d slept on without her for a week.
These thoughts on his mind, Lottie’s taste in his mouth, Mo broke the kiss, trailed his lips to her ear and asked, “You good?”
“Tremendous,” she replied, pressing into him. “Though, hungry.”
Yeah, he was too.
“And Mag got home a while ago,” she went on. “We should probably come up for air and go see if the Rockies won.”
This meant, go out and start laying the groundwork to find out what kind of guy Mag was so she could set him up with the right woman.
Mo grinned at her.
Lottie knew he knew what was on her mind and she grinned back.
He touched his mouth to that grin, pulled away and muttered, “Gotta do one thing first.”
“Okay, baby,” she replied.
He kept her close and reached an arm beyond her to his nightstand, tagging his phone.
He brought it back, engaging the screen, letting it see his face then he rolled to his back, taking Lottie with him so she was draped down his side.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder and commenced drawing random patterns on his chest.
Mo suddenly wasn’t all that hungry.
He hit the phone button on his screen and made his call.
“Well, hello, Mo, so glad you called. This means I can talk Trine down from sending out a search party.”
Mo smiled at the ceiling.
“Hey, Ma.”
He felt Lottie tip her head to look up at him.
He kept his eyes on his ceiling.
“How are things?” his mother asked.
“Things are great,” he replied.
“Great?”
Her tone was a mix of surprised, dubious and concerned.
To say his mother was not in the dark about some, if not all, of his issues was an understatement.
“Yeah, Ma, just got off a job.”
“Hawk giving you some downtime?”
“Yeah. But back tomorrow,” he told her. “Though after check in and debrief, hopin’ he’ll give me the weekend.” He paused before he shared, “Listen, I met somebody.”
Lottie tensed in his hold.
Complete silence from his mother.
To say Tammy and the others weren’t beloved by the other women in his life was another understatement.
“And I want you and the girls to meet her,” he finished.
“You…I…uh,” his mother stammered.
Mo pulled Lottie further up on his chest and tipped his eyes down to her stunned face.
“You’re gonna love her, Ma.”
Lottie’s face lost the stunned as it got soft and she slid her hand from his chest to the side of his neck.
“She’s terrific,” he continued.
At that, his girl’s face got even softer.
He’d give her the hazy-eyed look of eating her out and making her come, and he’d love doing that as often as he could manage.
But that look right there he’d kill and die for.
“Well I’m not sure you’ve ever quite described one of your women as terrific, Mo.”
Even his mother called him Mo, something he’d demanded around the age of six.
She’d saddled him with the name of Kim, Seamus was of his father, and even at six, he wanted nothing to do with that, so she’d relented without a fight.
Even his credit cards said Mo Morrison on them. Only his license shared that his mother had every faith upon his birth that he could handle bullies and douchebags without coming out scarred.
“That’s because I’m seein’ that they weren’t,” Mo replied.
“Well…my,” his mom whispered.
“Can’t do it this Sunday. Next Sunday?” he asked.
“I’d love to, but I think Marte’s schedule has her on shift at the hospital.”
“Sunday after that,” Mo suggested.
“That’d work. I’ll have dinner here,” his mother answered.
“We can hit a restaurant.”
“I’m not going to meet a woman you describe as ‘terrific’ in some stuffy place like a restaurant, Mo. I’ll make my crab cakes.”
He was not going to argue against his mother’s crab cakes.
“Perfect,” he muttered. Then louder, “Gotta go, Ma. Lottie’s here and Mag’s home from the ballgame so we’re gonna get some food and hang with Mag.”
Her voice went up in pitch when she asked, “She’s there?”
He gave Lottie a squeeze. “Right here.”
“Wow,” she whispered. Then she got louder. “Mag’s met her?”
“Yup.”
“What does he think?”
“I got the last good one left.”