Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Yeah, plus I’m going to work tonight. Josie’s cabinets aren’t going to build themselves.” The itching in my hands builds. Hopefully it’ll calm my mind down and keep me from punching the first available surface.
“When am I meeting Josie? It’s not fair she’s been to the restaurant when I’m conveniently not there, you know, Trace Wesley Gaines.” Gia pulls out the big guns, using my full name. Coop and I knew this would happen, especially with him opening his big mouth.
“Soon, probably this weekend. I may see if I can borrow your husband. Josie has a lock on counters. Hopefully, it’ll all go through, then they can be set up.” The lights in my garage show the work I have to get done. I’ve only gotten the upper cabinets finished. Now I’ve got to get the bulk of the lower cabinets set and ready.
“Shit, tell me she didn’t pick out the heavy stuff,” Coop laments.
“I’ll be there. Ignore Cooper; he always complains. Then you don’t invite him, and he bitches.” Gia is not wrong there. The last time I needed Coop on a project, he groaned the entire time leading up to it, then, when it came down to it, he was happy to help.
“Don’t I know it,” I chuckle.
“Okay, now I’m being ganged up on. We’ll meet you at the restaurant tomorrow and go from there. Don’t work too hard tonight, and don’t dwell on the Wes bullshit. It’ll be there when we come up with a plan,” the voice of reason says.
“Alright, see you guys tomorrow.” I hit the garage fridge to pull out a bottle of beer, twisting the cap off and squeezing the lid between my thumb and finger until it folds in half, then flick it toward the trash can. It soars through the air and makes it inside.
“Night, Trace,” Gia says.
“Tomorrow, bud. It’ll be better tomorrow,” Cooper states, even though I’m not so sure about it improving.
“Yep, see ya. Thanks again.” I hit the end button and pull up my text messages, letting Josie know I’m home and safe.
Me: Hey, babe, I’m home. Don’t work too hard tonight.
I don’t want her worn out tomorrow. I plan on doing that all on my own. It doesn’t take Josie long to read the message. Bubbles appear, and then I’m receiving her response.
Josie: Thank you, and I’m pretty sure you’ll work harder than me. At least I can take a nap tomorrow ;)
Me: Don’t tempt me, Josie. I’ve got no problem climbing in bed with you in the middle of the day.
Josie: I’ll be waiting.
Me: Naked?
Josie: I guess you’ll have to come and see.
Me: We’ll both be coming when I get there.
Josie: Promise?
Me: Fuck, yeah. Get your work done, babe. I’m gonna do the same. Tomorrow.
Josie: Tomorrow.
I toss my phone onto the counter. My evening started bad, but a few texts from Josie, and it’s turning around. And tomorrow, once she’s wrapped in my arms, naked, with my cock sliding in and out of her slick tight heat, it’ll be ten times better.
23
JOSIE
The nap Trace and I teased one another with never happened. I worked until about two o’clock this morning, fell asleep without showering, then got up and hit the ground running. After taking most of the past weekend off, I really want to keep the same schedule. Once I wrapped up for the day, I packed my laptop along with my overnight bag and drove to Trace’s.
“Fucking finally. Damn, it’s been too long since I’ve had your mouth.” I’m greeted at my driver’s side door to my SUV. Trace’s, hand cupping my cheek, his body dipping down to greet me with his lips. No words need to be spoken. Trace is showing me how much he wants and needs me. His tongue gains entrance when I moan, my hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. There’s a difference in his kiss from yesterday. Sure, it’s still full of heat and desire, but there’s an underlying tone to it, one I can’t put my finger on.
“Trace,” I murmur between breaths. Our heavy make-out session is turning me on. The only thing holding me back is the fact we’re out in the open, and no one needs to see me groping Trace.
“Babe, gonna need a lot more of that.” One hand is on my cheek, the other is enclosed around my breast, thumb rasping along my nipple. “We’ve gotta talk.” His tone is ominous. He’s upset, and while it would give most women the sign to hightail it out of here before their heart gets broken, I know this man would not have kissed me the way he did or keep up the clear line of communication throughout his workday if that were his plan.
“Alright, I think you’ll have to quit mauling me in order for that to happen,” I tease, trying to lighten the moment. My eyes zero in on his face, and I watch him wince. There are dark smudges beneath his eyes. Clearly, sleep didn’t hit Trace like it did me.