Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Knox got up to take the casserole out and put the salmon filets in.
Dream had to let me go to get the kids down.
And when we were both back on my couch with our plates in front of us, me with crossed legs, Knox with his long legs stretched out, bare feet on my coffee table, Jacques hanging close because he took his job of cleaning up any food that dropped on the floor super seriously (his record of falling on a dropped morsel: half a nanosecond), Knox brought it up, his eyes on the TV.
“I never thought I’d hear you two talk to each other like that.”
“I know,” I agreed.
He reached out to squeeze my knee (I’d allowed him to take his arm out of the sling so he could hold up his plate, which I did not think onerous enough to tear his stitches, then again, in all of our other activities that hadn’t happened, so I was beginning to learn not to worry).
“Happy about that for you,” he muttered after he went back to his food.
I was happy too.
Happy I was hanging on my couch, eating dinner with my guy.
Happy my dog was happy our guy was back.
Happy I was no longer in a seven-way tiff with all my girls.
And happy I was building something with my sister.
If we could get Knox’s family to back off and Cheyenne to back down, life would be amazing.
In time, I would be reminded things like that didn’t come very easily.
Even so, I was so happy, I didn’t let that moment slide.
I memorized it, just as I settled safe in the knowledge that night was going to be the first of many.
An eternity.
SIXTEEN
SWEET CENTERING
I woke before Knox, curled into his side, the sun not yet up in the sky, but I could see his head, still handsome even in shadow, on the pillow beside mine.
I woke early because it was habit, considering I had the early shift at SC.
And I woke because, like last night, he was snoring softly.
Truth, his position didn’t look comfortable at all, trussed in that sling with no choices available to him but lying on his back.
And I’d never heard him snore, maybe because he was a side sleeper, and by side sleeper I meant spooner, and he wasn’t fussy about who played the big spoon, just as long as we slept with maximum physical contact.
There was another one.
So many things I’d missed.
Too many.
But that was then.
This was now.
Careful not to disturb him, I slid from the bed and heard Jacques jump down with me.
Being as quiet as possible, I tugged on some joggers under Knox’s army tee I was still wearing, pushed my feet in my beat-up Tom’s, and grabbed my wee baby’s leash that had the attached cache of poo bags.
We headed down to the courtyard. Even though Jacques had to have every inch of it claimed by now, my puppers was never one to fall down on a job.
Therefore, Jacques did a lot sniffing, a lot of marking, a lot of tongue wagging and trotting, then we went back up the stairs, where he got breakfast.
When I returned to the bedroom, dawn was only just streaking the sky, and my guy was up, shoulders to the short headboard, drowsy-sexy eyes aimed at me.
My bed was all creamy, chunky throw at the end (even if this was unnecessary except for a couple of months, since we lived in Phoenix) and white comforter with a frayed edge design through it.
Around the room there were baskets, candles, wood, a squat ivory boucle headboard, over which was a shelf with some art resting on it, wood candlesticks, and to zhuzh it up, bone-colored vases filled with wispy feathers.
There were also crochet-covered toss pillows (currently on the floor), mirrors, a stubby floor plant in a slouchy wicker basket, with a wooden bench not as wide as the bed at its foot, and a wooden ladder with some fun fairy lights leaning against a wall.
The color palette ranged from white to taupe with only the green plant breaking it up.
It was boho. Serene. Inviting. Pretty. Comfortable.
And with that man in my bed, the most perfect room I ever saw.
I flicked off my Tom’s, pulled off my joggers and reentered the bed to take my favorite seat.
I swung astride my guy.
He put a hand to my thigh.
I put my hands to his sling and unbuckled it myself.
He growled.
Mm.
The best “good morning” evah.
I dipped in to kiss his throat as I carefully tugged the sling off.
Both his hands came to me, and I lost my favorite seat to be put in my favorite position: on my back with Knox on top of me.
We were of like minds that morning, I knew, when his kiss was gentle, but his hands were greedy.
Friday, and all day yesterday, it was about catching up, settling in, taking, giving, sharing, and heated, almost desperate connection any way we could get it.