Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Gary loves me.”
“Gary loves his daughter,” she corrected with a snicker. “You’re just what he has to deal with in order to get to her.”
“Hurtful,” I replied. “Ouch.”
“He’s doing good, don’t you think?” she asked tentatively, turning away to reach for her body wash. “I mean, all things considered.”
“Yeah, baby. He’s doing good.”
She nodded and handed me the soap. As she smoothed it over my chest and shoulders, I lathered it into her skin. It had become almost a ritual since the first time I’d washed her. We didn’t always shower together, but when we did, we took care of each other. It wasn’t sexual, though sometimes it wandered into that territory. It was more about connection, tactile assurance that each of us was healthy and whole.
“We should probably start looking into plans for the house,” I told her, smoothing my hands down her thighs as I kneeled. “And see how long it’ll take to clear some trees.”
“We don’t have to worry about that yet,” she replied hoarsely, running her hands over the tops of my shoulders. “Chance thinks he’s getting close to finding Hermann. We need to finish that first.”
“We can do both,” I countered, pausing to let her spread her legs so I could wash the delicate skin between her thighs. “You want to start a family once this is over, right?”
“You know I do,” she replied with a shudder as my hand brushed her sensitive clit.
Leaning forward, I kissed the skin below her belly button. “Then we’d better have a house ready when it happens.”
I’d barely risen to my feet again when her hand slid between my thighs, gliding slick and soapy over my skin.
“Not so easy to hold a conversation now, is it?” she joked, kissing my chin.
“You sure we don’t have time?” I asked, letting my head fall back.
“We do not,” she confirmed, her hand circling my cock.
“You’re a terror,” I complained as she let me go and stepped out of the spray so I could rinse off.
“You love me anyway.” She stepped out of the shower and started drying off. “So do you think you want a one-story house or two?”
I laughed and shut the shower off. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”
“I’d like a castle,” she said, scrubbing the towel over her head. “We can afford that, right?”
“I think a castle might be a little more conspicuous than Gary would like.”
“Ah, so you do have an opinion,” she teased.
“Menace.”
It took a lot less time for me to get ready than it did Rosemary, so when I was dressed, I headed downstairs to help set up. Rosemary may have been healed enough to carry tables and chairs around the house, but that didn’t mean she needed to if I was there. The house was a hive of activity when I reached the ground floor, and from what I could tell, all the tables and chairs had already been set up in the living area.
“Nephew,” my Aunt Helen greeted, crossing the room to meet me.
“Hey, when did you get here?” I asked, leaning into her hug.
“We flew in this morning. Couldn’t miss the party. Now, where is your mate?”
“Ah, I see how it is,” I joked. “You’re here for Rosemary.”
“Beautiful name,” she said with a smile.
“Beautiful woman,” I added.
“I’m so pleased for you. Beau and Ambrose too.”
“Rosemary’s still getting ready. I just came down to see if you guys needed any help.”
“I think everything is prepared,” Aunt Helen said, gesturing at the tablecloth-covered tables. “Your mother has been up for hours.”
“Figures.”
“Daniel Boucher,” Rosemary called from the top of the stairs. “I know what you’re doing!”
I laughed as the sound of her feet pounded down the stairs.
“What?” I asked, turning to meet her. “I was ready, so I got out of your hair.”
Rosemary looked around the room, her mouth slack. “They’re already done?”
“Looks like it.”
“You shouldn’t have kept me in bed so long,” she scolded.
“Baby,” I cut in before she said anything else. “Come meet my Aunt Helen.”
“Aw, shit,” she said under her breath as she started toward us.
Aunt Helen made a sound of amusement in her throat.
“Auntie, this is my mate, Rosemary. Rosemary, my aunt.”
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Rosemary said, shooting me a look before smiling warmly at my aunt and offering her hand. “I didn’t realize anyone was here yet.”
“Rosemary,” Aunt Helen greeted. She clasped Rosemary’s hand and held it. “It is very nice to meet you.”
The scar on Rosemary’s face was very noticeable. I knew that intellectually. But over the past few weeks, I’d started not to even notice it when I looked at her. It was just part of her face, like the freckle on her chin or the little dip in the bridge of her nose or the dimple on her opposite cheek. When the bandage had finally come off and the stitches were out, my mate had stood for a long time looking at herself in the mirror. It was as if she’d been memorizing this new face she’d been given. But after that, she barely mentioned it. There was no self-consciousness, no worry about how it looked.