Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I can't help but smile as I look down at him, unable to resist his charm.
“Stop,” I say at the end of a laugh, reaching for his plate, but he gently bats my hand away, sliding it out of reach. “Pax, this is so not the breakfast you’re supposed to eat before a workout. You'll be sick.”
“Stop trying to take my plate,” he says, shooing me away again playfully as he shovels another huge bite into his mouth. “You made this for me. I'm eating it,” he says, taking another bite for emphasis.
My heart swells in my chest, warmth radiating with each beat as I give up the fight and take a seat next to him, nibbling my own food.
“I feel terrible,” I say after my first bite. “Your stomach is going to be so full.”
Paxton takes a sip of the orange juice I set out earlier, shaking his head. “I'll take it easy during the workout,” he says with a shrug, pointing at his half-eaten plate in delight. “I’m not missing a breakfast like this. You can count on that,” he says, taking another bite. “Thanks for making my favorite,” he says after a few moments.
“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” I admit, wondering why the hell I feel a flush creeping beneath my skin. This is Paxton for fuck’s sake. It's not like this is the first breakfast I've ever made him. Far from it.
But there was something about the way I woke up this morning, stretching out contently in my bed, Paxton asleep next to me, a pleasant soreness between my thighs and a loose body from being worshipped the night before. I’d looked down at him, and I saw something stretching out before me, a path that felt like it had the ability to change everything. And I just wanted to thank him, spoil him, do anything to show him how much I appreciated him in every aspect of the phrase.
“You're always nice to me,” he says with a sly smile. “Except for when we play Uno. You always kick my ass at that game.”
A laugh rips from my lips, loud and raw and hard to reel in. “We haven't played that game in years,” I finally say.
“Beatings that brutal aren't easily forgotten,” he counters, finishing the last bite on his plate before leaning back against his chair with a contented sigh. “You keep treating me like this and I'm going to find a way to convince you to stay here forever,” he says, almost like an afterthought, and then his rich brown eyes widen slightly, panic radiating there as he looks at me.
I tense up, unable to stop the automatic reaction from rippling throughout my body.
But it feels different when he says it.
“That goes both ways,” I hurry to say, smiling at him and laughing forcefully as if it's a joke when it's anything but. Paxton has treated me better than anyone on the planet for longer than I can remember, and these last weeks with him have been next to blissful.
But nothing that great lasts forever, right?
“I'm starting to like your bed just a little too much,” I add, trying to switch the sincerity in my words to something more teasing and playful, something safer and not so committed.
The tension eases out of Paxton’s shoulders, and he grins at me. “I like my bed better with you in it too,” he says, the tone of his voice dipping into that lower register that sends warm tendrils skittering over my skin.
I bite back a smile, pushing away from the table and reaching for his empty plate, but he beats me to it, taking them to the sink and rinsing them off before popping them in the dishwasher. He then grabs the skillet I used, moving to wash it.
“Paxton, I made the mess,” I protest. “I'll clean it up. You go get your workout in. It's okay.”
“You cooked,” he says. “I'll clean up. And the guys will get started without me. I'm sure Baylor’s already been there for an hour now,” he adds while he finishes wiping down the counters.
He washes his hands, drying them on a towel before turning to face me. His eyes trail the length of my body, and I don't know how he’s capable of it, but somehow, he makes me feel like I'm wearing the most luxurious lingerie and not a pair of Bangor sweats and a white tank top that has avocado stains on it.
“Knowing Baylor, he’s probably been there for two,” I counter, but there’s a tenseness in my tone that even I can't hide.
Paxton spans the distance between us, bracing a hand on either side of the counter, caging me in in the most delightful and dominating way. He dips down to smooth his lips over mine, and a warm shiver travels the length of my body. I arch into him, needing more contact as I deepen the kiss, sighing between his lips as he folds his arms around me to bring our bodies flush.