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)
I felt that feeling I knew I’d come to love, his gentle laughter, before he slid out, lifted up, rolled me under him, then carefully covered me again with his bulk, taking weight onto a forearm, using his free hand to caress my hip.
I had to tip my chin up to catch his contented, handsome face, but with what I got, I didn’t mind the effort.
“We’re still in your bedroom,” he informed me.
“What year is it?”
“Sweetheart, watching that tight ass of yours while your even tighter pussy takes my cock, I’ve no fucking clue. But I hope I drilled you for a decade.”
“I don’t. We can’t make babies if you drilled me for a decade with a condom on. A decade, my babymaking years might be behind me.”
That didn’t freak him.
Not at all.
Not my Mo.
He dipped closer, touched his mouth to mine, pulled an inch away and asked, “How many do you want?”
“Seven thousand, but I’ll take two or three and seven thousand cats.”
His body and mouth both laughed again, I loved it again, then he said, “I’m not a cat guy.”
Uh-oh.
“You don’t like cats?”
“Take or leave cats, mostly leave. I’m a dog guy.”
Okay.
This was a problem.
I communicated the enormity of that problem by grabbing both sides of his face and demanding, “Don’t tell Tex that.”
“I know about Tex’s cats.” He turned his head and kissed my palm (and there it was, a little bit more). He came back to me. “Swear to Christ, won’t mention the cats.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“Work too much to have a dog.”
That’d end since I could take care of it when we got one (or two, or four).
Though he’d also have to put up with a cat (or two, or four).
“Axl seemed nice,” I noted.
“Axl’s a good guy.”
“He says you two are buds.”
“We are. Like I said, Axl’s a good guy.”
“Do you have a lot of buds?”
“Hawk’s crew. Some old high school friends I keep in touch with. My family.”
I tilted my head on the pillow. “Your family?”
“Mom in Denver, and four sisters.”
Four?
“You have four sisters?” I queried.
“Yup.”
“You the oldest?”
“Youngest.”
I stared up at him.
Then I asked, “You’re the youngest with four older sisters?”
“Yup.”
“Ohmigod.”
This seemed impossible.
No man his size was the littlest or youngest of anything.
“All but one is married,” he shared. “All but that one have kids. I’ve got five nieces and nephews.”
I loved this.
I loved it like crazy.
And not just the fact that I could freely ask him questions about his life, his friends, his family, and not try to keep things distant and professional.
But that he had a big family.
I loved family.
“Are they named Norwegian names?” I asked.
“Signe, Marte, Lene, Trine, in order, oldest to youngest.”
That was a yes.
“And you’re gonna meet them, soon as that can be arranged,” he announced.
I started to smile.
Then something occurred to me and I didn’t smile.
“Are they gonna have a problem with me being a stripper?”
A shadow crossed his face, which meant a shadow shrouded my heart.
But I would learn I shouldn’t underestimate Mo, or his feelings for me, and I’d learn it quick.
Like right then.
Because Mo rolled us both to our sides, gathered me close, but kept a lock on my eyes.
“You know, baby,” he said gently, “think the problem with what you do is with you.”
Hunh?
“I don’t have a problem with it,” I pointed out the obvious.
“First place you go, first question you ask, is if someone has issues.”
It wasn’t the first.
But I saw his point.
“That’s so I can ascertain if they have issues so I won’t waste time or emotion on someone who’s an asshole.”
He looked dubious. “You sure?”
“Mo, honey,” I said quietly, “can you imagine the shit I’ve come up against because of my job?”
The dubiousness fled, understanding replaced it, and he nodded. “I can.”
We were on rocky ground here and I didn’t want to be on rocky ground.
Not now.
Not when the wait was finally over and we were getting to the good stuff.
But maybe it was good to at least start the discussion, so it didn’t get buried under all the goodness. Both of us trying to ignore it was there. Then it became harder to bring it up, but it was between us and needed to be dealt with, and since we didn’t deal with it, it grew out of control and became a problem.
This was a very adult thought.
I still didn’t want to broach it and this demonstrated why I wasn’t a big fan of being an adult.
But I was a big fan of Mo’s, so I had to be an adult.
Damn it.
“And we need to—” I began.
“Babe, I don’t like you stripping,” he announced.
Shit.
Fortunately, Mo wasn’t done.
“But I also wouldn’t like you being a journalist based in Syria. My job isn’t often dangerous, but it is far from always safe. If you had a problem with it, we’d talk about it, but it would definitely drive a wedge if you put your foot down about it. It isn’t what it is. It’s who I am and if you asked me to stop doing it, it’d be you asking me to stop being who I am. I’ll eventually have to get out of the field because this kind of job has a shelf life and I won’t be as strong and quick as I need to be. What you do isn’t the same, but it is in some regards. I like you and I’ve had enough experience with women to know I won’t like every single thing about you. But the same goes for knowing that what I like, I like a lot so I’m willing to work at it and find ways to compromise with the rest.”