Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
But the devil is in the details, and every minute of that time together is forging something between us—strands of connection between me and Kayla, Riggs and Kayla, and surprisingly, even between me and Riggs in a new and different way.
Early on, I thought I could help Riggs find happiness again, and if that meant my stepping out once I’d greased the way, I could do that. For him. Maybe even for her. But as I wake up in the morning, I know that changed last night. Fuck, maybe I was lying to myself all along? I’m not sure when it happened. But I’m one hundred percent in this thing with Kayla and Riggs. I don’t know what we’re doing, but it’ll be fun to figure it out.
I slept with one eye open, half-expecting Kayla to disappear again, so finding her still sandwiched between me and Riggs feels like major progress. “Breakfast?” I ask Kayla, enjoying the sight of her freshly woken up and sleepy-eyed, hair a bit messy, and face bare.
On the other side of Kayla, Riggs rumbles, “I already ordered it. ETA fifteen minutes.”
I guess he was only half-sleeping too, probably thinking the same thing I was—that she’s a runner.
“Mmm, what’d you order?” she asks, stretching her arms overhead. My eyes trace over her nude form, appreciating the way her nipples peek out over the top of the sheet.
“Eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, croissants. I didn’t know what you’d want so I kinda got it all,” he admits, sounding a bit unsure whether that was the right thing to do. “We already have coffee. Or smoothie stuff, if you’d rather.” Though I doubt she realizes it, he’s laying it on thickly, damn near rolling out the red carpet for Kayla. I haven’t seen him do that in… well, honestly, ever. It’s a neon sign that he feels this is special too, though he would rather gnaw off his own arm than admit to something so ooey-gooey.
“That sounds delicious,” she murmurs. “Let me go to the restroom first, though.” She looks left at me, then right at Riggs, like she’s seeing who’s going to let her out of the bed. Neither of us moves. When she looks back to me, I arch a brow, wanting to see what she’ll do. I’m hoping she crawls over me, so I can feel her sweet pussy for a moment, but if she gives that gift to Riggs, I won’t be upset about it. Instead, she laughs. “You two are ridiculous.”
She throws the sheet off and climbs out the foot of the bed, leaving Riggs and me naked and hard as she disappears into my bathroom.
We meet eyes, silently having a conversation about last night and confirming our plan for this morning. First, breakfast. Second, fuck Kayla again. Third, don’t scare her.
“I’m gonna hit the head. Meet you in the kitchen?” he says, standing up. He stretches too, his back cracking several times before walking off, his dick proceeding him like a knight getting ready for the joust.
I chuckle, then get up myself. In the bathroom, I find Kayla bent over the sink, washing her face. She meets my gaze in the mirror, her eyes bright blue as water drops run down her cheeks. She’s naked in more than one way, like her guard is down, her defenses crumbled. But that’s temporary with a woman like Kayla, whose walls are built high and strong, fortified with the steel of painful experiences. It’s a good thing I’m not a wrecking ball because that’d only leave her in ruins, and I don’t want that. No, I plan to chip away at her armor tiny bit by tiny bit until there’s a doorway. One that she opens and welcomes me through.
“Want a T-shirt?” I offer.
“I thought you’d want me to eat breakfast naked.”
I tilt my head like I’m considering that option, or more accurately, picturing it. “I would love that, but the idea of you wearing my shirt has its own appeal. Besides, it’ll drive Riggs crazy.” I grin playfully.
“Ooh, you’re bad,” she purrs.
I nod, agreeing. “The worst.”
While she dries her face, I pull on loose athletic shorts, then she lets me slip one of my T-shirts over her head. Mind you, it’s not some plain tee. Oh, no, I’m better than that. It’s a Devils T-shirt with my name on the back. Not quite a jersey, but the next best thing. “Make sure you do a little twirl for him, ‘kay?” I swat her butt as she passes by, and she whips her head around to glare at me, but there’s a spark in her eye. She’s faking the anger, but not the sass. “Your ass sore?” I taunt. I saw her smooth, peachy skin when she was bent over the sink. There’s no remnants of what we did last night, at least not physically.