Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I noticed you and your date didn’t eat the food I made last night. If I warm it up, would you eat some of it?”
Theo hammers at a nail, hair pulled back into a low ponytail, sweat beading along his tight, tan skin. “We’re not doing this.”
My hand shields my eyes from the sun as I squint up at him. “Sorry? Doing what? Eating?”
“I told you last night meant nothing.”
“You did. You told me on every single thrust and once more before you pulled out. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I agree, it was nothing. Frankly, it was the least memorable sex I’ve ever had. A weak two out of ten. Now, come down and I’ll make us an early dinner, and we’ll discuss all the animals in the world that have better sex skills than Theodore Reed.”
I reheat the leftover curried rice and beans, fluff up last night’s tossed salad, which does little to revive the wilted lettuce leaves, and I crack open a beer for Theo, bottled water for me. To my complete surprise, he comes inside as I retrieve the baking dish from the oven.
“I need a shower.”
“You do. I’d join you but I don’t want to eat a cold dinner.”
He stops two steps beyond the kitchen. His panic is palpable.
“I’m kidding. Two out of ten … I don’t have sex twice with a two. Life’s too short and the men are too plentiful for that.”
“Two out of ten?”
“Yes.” I whisk the balsamic dressing in a bowl. “When you basically use a woman as a wanking vessel while whispering ‘this means nothing’ in her ear over and over, you get two stars.”
He pauses, I assume to contemplate the proper response to someone telling him he was shit in bed. “So why a two and not a one?”
I shrug. “You didn’t have to take a pill for ED, which got you one star, and you didn’t call out some other woman’s name … that secured your second star.”
“And the orgasm?”
I still. “What do you mean?”
“You orgasmed. That doesn’t get me a third star? You yelled my name—twice. That’s another two stars. We’re up to five.”
“I didn’t orgasm.” I resume my whisking, refusing to let him fluster me.
“You did.”
“And how would you know?”
“I could feel you milking my cock while your eyes squeezed shut and your heels dug into my ass.”
Bollocks! Mr. Reed is pretty damn observant in bed.
I snicker. “Maybe you’re remembering your first shag of the night. Don’t forget, I wasn’t your first.”
His lips purse while a chill slithers along my spine. “You were my only ‘shag’ of the night.” My head snaps up, but he’s already halfway up the stairs.
*
Theodore eats like a caveman. His right arm rests on the table, curled around the perimeter of his plate protecting his food while he shovels it in with the fork fisted in his left hand.
“You’re a lefty.” I lean back in my chair, after maybe two bites of food. Observing Theo satisfies my appetite more than food.
“Sometimes.”
I chuckle. “Sometimes?”
He shrugs, giving me a brief look before returning his focus to his endangered meal. “I’m ambidextrous.”
So he’s good with both hands. That wouldn’t make headlines, yet it fascinates the hell out of me. I want to know everything about this man, but I don’t know why.
“Nolan said you’re moving in six months … well, four now. Where are you going?”
He pauses then drops his fork onto his plate. “Why?” he asks with exasperation as his cold eyes meet mine.
“Curiosity, that’s all.”
After a good five seconds, he resumes eating. “You know what they say about curiosity,” he mumbles over a mouthful of food.
“It kills the cat?”
Theo keeps shoveling food.
“Fine. Then make something up.”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then takes a swig of his beer. “Make something up?”
“Sure. Make something up. Make everything up. We’re going our separate ways in a few months, so make something up … but make it good. I love a good story.”
He’s mastered the you’re-crazy look. It’s possible I’ve helped cultivate its perfection.
Leaning back, he blows out a long breath. I freak out on the inside because he’s really going to do it. Theodore Reed is going to make up some bullshit story and share it with me. Life is good.
“I’m the lead singer in a band and we’re going on a world tour.”
My eyes double in size like he’s telling me the truth, but I know he’s not. I didn’t expect him to say something so cool.
“Do you play an instrument?”
“Guitar.” He gets a gold medal for the fastest answer ever. He’s good at this.
“Genre?”
“Country Rock.”
“How many band members?”
“Five.”
“First tour?”
“No.” He keeps a straight face the whole time, eyes glued to mine.
“Favorite part about touring?”
“Getting laid.”
I laugh and one corner of his mouth relinquishes the slightest twitch of a smile.