Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Dean’s room was pretty simple.
In fact, his whole house was simple.
He lived in a two-bedroom house on the outskirts of town that was smack dab in the middle of thirty-five acres.
The tiny house had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room and a bathroom that he’d converted into a laundry room as well.
Why, I didn’t know, but he did it, and it seemed to work.
He’d yet to add any decorations to the walls; the only thing I would call decorative were the towels that hung in the bathroom and kitchen.
The bedroom I was in was much the same as the rest of the house.
Neat as a pin.
His clothes were hung up in the closet, and his shoes were lined up underneath his clothes.
He had a four-poster bed along the far wall with the TV directly in front of it.
He didn’t even have a dresser.
When I’d asked him where he put his socks and underwear, he’d pointed to a clothes hamper in the bathroom where all of the clean socks and underwear went, which happened to be directly next to the dirty one.
He lived a simple life, and I found that I quite liked that about him.
In fact, I probably wouldn’t have liked him as much as I did if his house was opulent.
That just wasn’t me.
Dean made his way back through the door and stopped, letting me see him take a big bite of the ice cream.
“That’s just mean,” I told him, turning my eyes to the TV once again.
I wasn’t even sure what was happening at this point in the movie.
With Dean beside me, I rarely, if ever, paid attention unless it was an action scene.
I rearranged my position when Dean resumed his seat next to me, but he didn’t settle beside me where he had been previously. No, he got right onto my back and pinned my hips down with his butt.
“Sit still,” he ordered, tightening his legs against my hips.
My head dropped to the bed underneath me, and I sighed in frustration.
“I want some,” I whined, wiggling my hips.
“Bite,” he said.
I opened my eyes and found the spoon in front of my mouth filled with the delicious ice cream I’d bought us earlier in the day.
I leaned forward tentatively, just waiting for him to yank it back, and pulled it off the spoon with my lips.
He growled.
I moaned as the deliciousness coated my taste buds.
It’d been a little over three months since Blue Bell had come back into my life, and I’d never take it for granted ever again. It was now my goal to make sure that I always had some Blue Bell in my freezer.
Today, though, I hadn’t been able to have my fix, and I’d only found two small pints of it at the gas station on my way there.
Being the nice person I was, I shared them with Dean.
He hadn’t been in the mood for the ice cream at the same time I had mine, but I’d been sitting there thinking about it in the freezer.
Which led us to now.
“Give me another bite,” I ordered.
His hand came down sharply on my ass.
“What did you say?” he asked teasingly, hoping I’d repeat myself.
I panted as a different desire started to roll through me.
This time, ice cream was not on my mind.
“Please,” I said to him, my lids falling half closed as he trailed his spoon down my spine.
He moved down my legs until he was sitting on my knees, and then I felt a cold wetness on my back.
“Did you just waste your ice cream on my back?” I gasped in outrage.
He chuckled darkly.
“Oh, I’m not wasting it at all,” he said, his mouth going to my skin as he licked the creamy treat from my flesh.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” I whispered as his tongue dipped down to the top of my ass. “God.”
***
“Ouch!” I cried out when Dean’s fingers pried away my t-shirt, jostling the glass that was still imbedded in my armpit.
“Sit still,” he snapped when I went to turn around.
I sat still, but did so reluctantly.
My eyes went to the side of the ambulance in front of me, and I glared at the reflection I could see in the glass of one of the cabinets.
I hated the way his hands felt on my back, even if they weren’t doing anything that wasn’t medically necessary.
Also, I definitely did not like that he was seeing my body once again.
I’d gained weight.
A lot of it.
Nearly thirty-five pounds, in fact.
I now had stretch marks, and my love handles were definitely more ‘handle’ and less ‘love.’ Unless you wanted to say the ‘love’ in them was my love for food, then that was accurate.
I’d taken to eating quite a bit lately, and I’d pretty much abandoned my workout routine he’d helped me put together. One that’d helped me lose forty-five pounds while I was with him for six months.