Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I look at Brett, who steps in and pulls on something. “Are you two ready?”
I look over at Stone, who just stares at me with his brown eyes that keep changing every time I look at him. His hair is pushed back from his face. “I don’t know, gorgeous.” The softness of his voice makes my whole body tingle. “Are you ready?” I don’t answer him because I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for whatever Stone Richards throws my way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
stone
I watch her eyes light up as the basket slowly moves off the ground. “Oh my.” She holds on to the side of the basket. I stand behind her, holding on to her hips to let her know I’m right here and nothing will happen to her. She laughs excitedly as we move higher and higher above the ground. She turns, and her smile is infectious. Without a shadow of a doubt, I will do whatever it is in my power to make her smile like that every time I’m with her.
“I wanted a way to show you the city without being—” I stop talking when she looks at me and her hair blows into her face. My hand comes up from holding the basket to tuck it behind her ear. “Interrupted.” I move my position from behind her to halfway on the side of her, my hand still on her hip.
“Thank you for this,” she says, looking back out to the view. “After the sex tour.” She bumps her shoulder into my chest. “Nothing can cross off that sex tour.”
“Hey.” I laugh. “That means I’m always going to be number one.” I shrug my shoulders. “That’s all that matters.”
“It’s so pretty.” She looks at the view of the lake. The trees are getting fuller now that spring is right around the corner.
“You know what I don’t see?”
“What?” She looks at me.
“Snow,” I deadpan. Her head goes back, and her laughter echoes in the balloon.
“It’s nice to have four seasons.” She looks back in front of her.
“You know who says that?” I wait a second before I answer my question. “People who have to deal with snow. I grew up in New York and then moved to Canada. Trust me, I don’t like one thing about the snow. I mean, the only thing I like in the winter is outdoor skating.”
“See.” She points at me. “If there is no snow, you can’t go skate outside.”
“They did the winter classic in Dallas last year,” I inform her. “Texas, where it gets to one hundred and twenty-eight million degrees in the summer.”
She’s about to argue with me like she normally does—because there can never be a day when she doesn’t tell me I’m wrong about something—when Brett starts talking about where we are. I don’t really pay attention to him. Instead, my eyes are all on her. Her reaction to everything is priceless. I wish I could film it and watch it over and over again.
“Can you take a picture of us?” I ask Brett, handing him my phone. I move Ryleigh in front of me, putting my hand over her shoulder, and she reaches up to put her hand in mine. I wrap my other hand around her waist, pulling her into me as we smile for the camera.
He hands me back the phone, and I look at the pictures he took. “I like this one.” I show her.
“Can you send them to me?” she asks.
“I can since I now have your phone number.” I wink at her, sending her the pictures.
For three hours, we coast over Nashville side by side, both of us pointing out things and asking Brett about them. It’s one of my favorite days, best I’ve ever had. Getting home and cooking side by side is something I’ve never done with anyone before, but also something I want to do all the time now. But only with her.
She sleeps in my T-shirt after I fuck the ever-loving shit out of her, wanting to touch her every single second, not thinking about the fact she’s going to leave.
The following morning, I wake up to find the bed next to me empty when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a shirt that goes to her mid-thigh and falls off her shoulder. “Good morning,” I mumble and hold out my hand to her, telling her to come to me.
She laughs at me. “Good morning to you.” She stands by the bed instead of coming to lie down beside me. I move over to her side of the bed and kiss her leg while my hand roams up the back of her thigh and under her shirt to find her ass bare. “Come to bed.”
“No,” she replies, “I need coffee and to eat. My flight is at one.” The dreaded words I hate to hear.