Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Dammit.
I grabbed a pair of underwear, a pair of flannel pants, and hurried to the other bathroom, less I get tempted to go back in there and do something we both definitely were not ready for.
I made quick work of my shower, using my son’s baby shampoo to wash off before quickly drying off and dressing. I might’ve had ideas of lingering to take care of my little...big problem, if it hadn’t been for all the creepy as shit Dory and Nemo memorabilia staring at me as soon as I made it through the door.
I’d hated it when Shiloh had done it, and hated it even more so now. I’d have to make a mental note to never come in here with those kind of intentions. Nemo and Dory would cock-block me again for sure.
Slipping on my underwear and pants up slightly damp legs, I opened the door, flicked off the light, and headed back to my bedroom. My mind was working on overdrive thinking about where exactly I’d stash her for the night. That was taken out of my hands, however, when I came into my room and stopped dead in the doorway.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
Baylee was lying on the bed, face down, wearing one of my t-shirts, which had ridden up revealing the small of her back. Her butt was covered with my huge black down comforter. Thank God. Although I could only guess what she was wearing, if anything, underneath that comforter.
I contemplated what to do, but in the end, my exhaustion decided that for me. There was no way I was sleeping on the couch. It was about three inches too short for me on a good day, and I wasn’t even going to go into the width. I was also, definitely, not sleeping in my son’s bed, either.
Shoving her over to the other side of my large king sized bed, I stripped my pants off at edge of the bed, and slipped in beside Baylee. Luckily, she stayed on her side, otherwise, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions. My brain was working at a snail’s pace, and I didn’t have the will power to push her off myself at that moment in time.
Sleep claimed me once I got the comforter settled over my lower half, and my last thought was I could get used to this.
Chapter 8
Baylee
Monday
I smiled when I saw my phone light up again. It happened a lot lately. Sebastian questioned me constantly.
Sebastian- Favorite color?
Baylee- Brown.
Sebastian- Why brown?
Baylee- I’ve become fond of the color of light beer lately.
Sebastian- That’s incredibly weird.
Baylee- Sexual preference?
Sebastian- Blonde. Boobs. Legs.
I snorted, drawing the eyes of my brother over the mug of his coffee cup. He just glared. He was used to it.
Tuesday
I barely held my laughter in check as I sent my latest text message to Sebastian.
Baylee- Shoe size?
Forty minutes later
Sebastian- Fourteen.
Baylee- Are you proportional?
Sebastian- As in, is my dick the same size as my shoes? I wish.
I snorted. I did too.
Two hours later
Baylee- have you ever been to Hurricane Harbor?
Sebastian- The theme park?
Baylee- Yes.
Sebastian- Once when I was a kid. We usually went to Sea World.
Baylee- How’s work?
Sebastian- Trying my patience.
Baylee- Do you not like working there?
Sebastian- Boss is a dick.
Baylee- :(
I felt bad for him. Each night, for the past three nights, I’d spoken to him, and he’d had nothing but trouble at work. Working in a place that you hated wasn’t healthy. Especially when you had such a dangerous job.
Late Tuesday night
Baylee- Have a good day?
Sebastian- Been better. Just got Johnny in bed.
Baylee- When do I get to meet him?
Sebastian- Next week sometime, hopefully. Lindsey’s mother is taking him for the weekend.
Baylee- What’s Lindsey’s mother’s name again?
Sebastian- Doreen.
Baylee- You’re lucky to have her.
Sebastian- What are you wearing?
One-track mind that man had. He was full of sexual innuendo. In all honesty, I was too. I just didn’t let him know that.
I was lying in bed wearing a pair of boy short underwear and a tank top that said, ‘Spooning can lead to forking,’
I debated it all of three seconds before I snapped a picture of myself, making sure that you couldn’t tell that I wasn’t wearing any shorts. Before I could think better of it, I sent it, threw the phone down on the bed, and ran to the bathroom.
Then I peeked out at it a few minutes later, wondering if it’d vibrated with a text message from him or not.
Chewing my nails, I tried to control the butterflies as I walked to the bed and peeked at my phone. Then the butterflies took flight as I saw the blinking green light in the corner indicating I’d gotten a message.
Scrounging up my courage, I opened the phone and my heart stuttered at what I read.
Sebastian- Fuck. Tomorrow you’ve got some work to do to undo the damage you’ve caused tonight.
Wednesday- Midnight
I fanned myself as I put the book I’d been reading on my phone down. Was that even possible? Can you orgasm on a motorcycle just by riding it? Knowing better, but still wanting to know the answer, I clicked a snap shot of the screen and asked. Then cursed myself for sending it so late. Except, not even moments later, my phone pinged.
Sebastian- Ummm, I’ve never actually tried that. Maybe you and I can reenact it sometime.
My heart stuttered. That would mean I had to actually get ON a motorcycle, which I’d sworn never to do. But an orgasm, not by my own hand, sounded freaking divine right now. I’d gladly break my rule just this once.
Chapter 9
There comes a point in your workday where you know you’re no longer going to be productive. That point came at 7:19 today.
-text from Sebastian to Baylee
Sebastian
I stared at my Captain, and barely restrained the desire to plant my fist into the older man’s smug face.
In all my years of firefighting, nobody had ever disregarded my fears and suspicions as this man just had.
Devon McRae was a fifty nine year old powerhouse of a man. He was surly, unyielding, and he hated my guts. He’d actually hated me ever since I’d been hired, after leaving the military. He hated the fact that his boss, at the time, had made him hire me. He hated that I belonged to a club that was composed of ‘outlaws.’ And he hated the fact that I knew more than him.