Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Hi there,” I say brightly, even as I drink in the sight of her. She looks so pretty today. Ruth-Ann’s wearing a brand new pink bodysuit with the Sunrise Cantina logo over one breast and covering her back. Her smooth hair has been chopped to just below her chin, about two inches shorter than the last time I saw it. It’s tucked behind her ears, making her face seem more heart-shaped than before. “You look cute. Very pink.”
She makes a face at me. “It’s not really my color but I got outvoted.”
“It goes with the theme. Your hair looks beautiful, too.” I carefully ease the cake down onto a bit of clear counter space. Here I’ve been worrying like mad over her, frantic that she hates me, and she looks great. Better than great. Fantastic.
Ruth-Ann tries to tuck her hair behind her ear but it’s already there. “First time I’ve had to cut it…um, in a while. It’s tidier at this length.”
“It’s pretty, but you always look pretty.”
She gets the cutest smile on her face and my heart flip-flops in my chest.
I am so gone on her.
It’s a terrifying—and exhilarating—realization. After years of being enslaved and forced to have sex with a male alien, I thought I’d never feel like myself again. That trauma had killed all the sexy parts of my personality and I’d go through the rest of my life happy to never be touched again. I thought I’d never want to have sex again…and now all I think about is Ruth-Ann and her lips. Ruth-Ann and the graceful way she moves, her elegant fingers and her rusty giggle. The way she’s so particular about everything in her world being just so.
I find myself dreaming about how she’d taste, if her thighs would clamp around my ears or if she’d just cradle my head gently between them. I imagine the noises she makes when she’s aroused, if they’re as reluctant as her laughter is.
I hate that we haven’t been talking. I miss her. Hell, I’d prefer she showed up at my cart again and verbally trashed all my food. At least then I’d know I was on her mind. I can’t stand her silence.
“Can we talk?” I ask carefully, lingering in the kitchen. Everyone is busy, with Zaemen trying to ignore the two of us, and Ruth-Ann cutting buns in half. I should probably wait for some other time to try and have a conversation, but now that I’m here and she’s smiled at me, I can’t leave. So I pick up a bread knife and start cutting buns alongside her.
She’s silent but glancing at me warily. I’m going to take that as a good sign and continue.
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings the other day,” I say. “About the birthday thing. I wasn’t trying to pry into your past, and you know I’d never try to trigger you deliberately. I didn’t realize it was off limits.”
She grimaces, cutting faster and not looking me in the eye. “I wasn’t triggered. It’s just…can we just say that it’s complicated and leave it at that? Where’s Pluto?”
“He’s with Ruthie, sitting at the bar like a good boy.” I’m so relieved that she doesn’t hate me. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then we won’t talk about it. “He misses you and your cookies.”
That makes her smile.
“I miss you, too,” I blurt out. “And I want to keep being your friend.”
Okay, so I don’t exactly want to be her friend, but if that’s the way I get to spend time with her, then that’s how it’ll go.
Ruth-Ann gazes up at me, biting her lip, and it takes everything I have not to swoop in and kiss her. “I wish I could explain—”
“Nothing to explain. It’s in the past.”
She sets down the knife and the bun in her hand, and the next thing I know, she’s hugging me. I drop mine and wrap my arms around her, and she feels just as good as I expected she would. I’m taller, but she’s the perfect size against me, her soft hair tickling the lower part of my face. She smells like clean soap and happiness, and I want to drink her in.
I love you, I want to yell out loud. Please don’t shut me out again. I wasn’t lonely before because I didn’t know what I was missing. Now that I do, the thought of losing you is unbearable.
I say nothing, though.
A throat clears. Zaemen holds his spatula with an annoyed expression, the meat on the grill sizzling as he glares at us. “Can you ladies make out on your own time? The kitchen is getting more behind than we already were.”
We jerk apart. Ruth-Ann picks up her knife and starts cutting buns again, then shoots me a rueful look. “Zaemen might be the first male in the universe that’s ever told women not to make out.”