Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
“That’s true,” she murmurs. “You didn’t even bring us around when you were dating my mom.”
I shrug. “Wasn’t serious about her.”
She drops my gaze as she plugs the charger into her phone. “Just wasting her time, huh?”
“I don’t think I wasted it. I’m pretty sure she was well-compensated for the time she spent with me.”
Kennedy smirks. “That makes her sound like a hooker.”
“How are things between you two?” I ask seriously.
Before Tracey and I officially called it quits, it seemed like their relationship had taken a pretty big hit. My fault. I should have had more self-control, but when I saw Kennedy standing there in nothing but a bath towel, all bets were off. I had to know how she tasted, had to hear her moans of pleasure as she writhed beneath my ministrations and clawed at the sheets on her mother’s bed.
Just thinking about that night causes my cock to stir, so I try to shift my thoughts elsewhere.
What was I talking about again?
Ah, right. The mess I made of her life.
I’m not sorry I did it, but I am sorry it made Kennedy’s life harder.
As if unbothered by it, she says glibly, “Same old, same old.”
“No, I mean it.” I wait for her to meet my gaze so she can see I’m serious. “It seemed like things were bad over the summer.”
“Hooking up with your mom’s boyfriend tends not to bring you closer together,” she states. “And it’s not like we were close to begin with.”
“I’m the one she should be mad at, not you.”
“She had enough anger for both of us,” she says, smiling faintly, but it’s nothing to smile about.
I knew Tracey was a shit mother—I was able to piece that together in the brief time I spent with her, despite her half-assed attempts to make it seem like she wasn’t—but I also know without a father in the picture, Kennedy doesn’t have anywhere else to go even if things get bad at home.
“I hate to have made things worse for you,” I tell her.
Shrugging it off, she says, “Don’t worry about it. I only have to put up with her for a few more months, then I’ll finally be done with high school and I can move out. I’d do it already, but I can’t manage a full-time work week and school on top of it, so…” She turns and glances toward the master bath. “Do you happen to have an extra toothbrush?”
I lean back against the wall. “What if I say no?”
“Then I’m using yours,” she threatens.
I crack a smile. “Of course I have extra toothbrushes.” I push off the wall and walk into the bathroom to get her one.
Kennedy follows me inside, looking around my master bathroom. I never have women in here, haven’t since Edie died. There’s something too intimate about sharing a space like this with just anyone.
Not that Kennedy is just anyone.
Still, it’s odd.
When she stops in front of the sink, she stops on Edie’s side.
It’s a “his and hers” sink with two basins, and I guess it’s easy to tell which side is mine. When Edie was alive, there were lotions and creams and fruity soaps lined up on her side. I didn’t want to get rid of them when she first died, but it got to a point that I couldn’t look at them anymore. It felt too much like all her stuff was just waiting for her to come back.
Kennedy glances back at me, uncertain. I can almost read “Is this okay?” written across her pretty face as she fills the space on the empty side of the sink.
I’m not sure if it is or not, but rather than decide, I open the linen closet and grab an unopened toothbrush. “Here you go,” I say, handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she murmurs before popping the package open.
I guess I should go through my own nightly ritual since I won’t have access to my bathroom once she’s in bed.
My bed.
“Do you need to shower?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, looking around before realizing there’s no toothpaste on her side, so she reaches across the long sink and steals mine. “No, I’m okay. Maybe a T-shirt to sleep in if you have one to spare? But I can make do without. My undershirt is comfortable enough to sleep in.”
I glance at her jeans. “And those?”
Mischief sparks in her pretty brown eyes. “No. I’d just sleep in the undershirt and panties.” Smug about teasing me, she pops the toothbrush into her mouth and starts brushing with vigor.
I see how it is.
She’s not the only one who can play.
Sucking air through my teeth and shaking my head apologetically, I tell her, “I’m afraid my bed is a panty-free zone. Sorry.”
She nearly chokes on a startled laugh, then she pulls her long hair aside and leans forward to spit. “I’m not surprised with all those condoms you have on hand.”