But when he’s watching me with questions lingering in his gaze like he’s thinking the same things, like whatever he’s thinking is too vulnerable to share,I know him.
Like Iamhim.
Leaving behind the things that have caused me pain and made me afraid to get close to anyone again. Looking for a fresh start in a place that I can be truly open again. Where I can believe no one has an ulterior motive. Where no one knows my personal history.
Except I know a little about his.
And he knows a little about mine.
“You didn’t want your cookie.” His voice is husky and raw and I want to close my eyes and live in it.
“I always want cookies, but I couldn’t enjoy it when I was hurting.”
“Feel better now?”
“So much better.”
“Can I watch you eat your cookie?”
I smile while every nerve in my body does a happy dance, which I wouldn’t have thought possible three hours ago. “Would that make you happy?”
“If you ate it naked.”
29
Fletcher
I am such an asshole.
To myself.
I am an asshole to myself.
Is there any other explanation for merequestingthat Goldie,who will always fucking rise to a challenge, eat a cookie naked in front of me?
Because that’s exactly what she’s doing.
She’s standing in her kitchen, bare-ass naked, pulling the large cookie out of its box while I stare at her smooth ass and the hint of side boob and her long arms and that hummingbird tattoo on her shoulder.
While I’m sitting on the floor of her living room, sweating.
My dick is an iron rod. My balls are so tight they’re cramping. My heart is racing like I’m chasing an Olympic sprinter the entire length of the pitch. My hands are itching to stroke her skin and my mouth—my mouth wants to feast on her entire body.
“Oh,peanut butter, my favorite,” she says, her voice breathy in a way that makes me imagine her sayingOh, Fletcher’s cock, my favorite,the same way.
Not helping the situation in the nuts.
Nor does her turning to give me a full view of her lush, round breasts and rosy nipples. Her smooth, taut skin. The curve of her waist dipping down to those hips. The dark curls hiding her pussy.
My mustache’s obituary won’t be the only one her friend writes about me this year.
And that’s before Goldie breaks off a bite of the soft cookie and uses her fingers to put it into her mouth, slides her eyes closed, and sighs one of thoseI just camesighs that makes her shoulders fall back while her head tilts. I watch the motion in her long neck as she swallows, and every last ounce of blood in my body channels straight to my dick.
I’m never walking again.
There’s zero chance my legs will ever get blood flow back.
“Please tell me there are cookies this amazing in London too,” she says.
