educated woman and built like you are… Girls like you and guys like me usually don’t mix.”
If she was a cartoon bull, he would have seen steam puffing out of her flared nostrils. But she wasn’t. She was all pissed-off female.
“What do you mean built like me? Listen, you…you…” The scrape of the chair on the floor confirmed she wasn’t only done with breakfast, but he feared she was done with him too.
For some reason, he didn’t give a shit if she fired him; he just didn’t want to stop seeing her. Shit . “What I mean is—”
The finger pointing in his face was making him either want to tip the table over or toss her on it. He was still debating. “What you mean is that fat girls don’t deserve hot guys. That’s what you mean, Sean.” Now the slender finger wasn’t only pointing in his direction but nudging his bare chest. “Well, I’ve got news for you, stud, we deserve not only hot guys, but nice ones too, ones that can make pancakes and love our dogs.”
He looked down at Penelope, who was giving him an apologetic stare. He wasn’t sure if it was to confirm that she’d get another pancake or apologize for her mistress’s outburst.
“And—” He snapped his gaze back at the flaming blue eyes glaring at him. “Ones that will protect us and…and not think that we’re crazy and hurt us or think that we don’t deserve to be loved. No…no matter what has happened to us.”
What the fuck? “Abigail, I didn’t mean—”
“Never mind.” The sound of defeat was more than he could take. A punch to his ribs would’ve felt better.
He forced his gaze to stay planted on her flushed face and not on the cleavage that was staring back at him. “Abigail, it came out wrong. I just meant that women who are really pretty and sweet looking, they don’t go for guys like me. I look like the kind of life I’ve led, at least until a couple of years ago. Most women who are built with soft curves and, God forgive me, but fucking awesome breasts, don’t give me the time of day. You, Abigail, are real. Every inch of your gorgeous body is one-hundred-percent woman.” It was his turn to stand up. He crowded her against the table, watching as her once even breaths grew erratic. He cupped the back of her neck with his hand and massaged the soft hair flowing against his hand. Her brave finger tucked back against her chest as she stepped back and bumped her ass against the tabletop.
“S-Sean,” she whispered as he leaned in and peppered small kisses against her collarbone. “That…um, that feels so good. I’m mad at you.” Her voice said one thing, but as he continued to massage the back of her neck, her hips curled against him.
“Get up on the table, Abigail.”
“I can’t. I mean no. I mean I’m still—”
“Fuck it.”
“Oh!” Abigail’s heels went up as Sean’s big hands cupped her ass and planted her on the table.
“Open your mouth, Abigail. I’m going to fuck you right here. On the table. In front of your dog.”
BY THE SMIRK on his face, she wasn’t sure how serious he was. “Sean!”
He tucked his hands under her ass and pulled.
The thin pajama bottoms were tugged down to her thighs as she scrambled to pull them back up. God, it was light out. He’d see everything if he kept going. “Sean, you really don’t want to do this.”
“Oh yeah? Keep it up, baby…keep it up. Tinker Bell be damned.” He sneaked his fingertips beneath the elastic of her panties and pulled. Those took a bit more maneuvering, but he managed to strip her of those too. “Ah, silky.”
“Wh-What?” She held on to his hard shoulders to steady herself. She squeezed. Damn, he was built like a god. Her fingertips massaged his smooth skin, making her thighs melt and want to straddle his waist.
“Nothing,” he said. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”
She fidgeted as quickly as she could and tugged on the hem of her tank top. Jesus, last night she was tipsy with enough bravery to take
If she was a cartoon bull, he would have seen steam puffing out of her flared nostrils. But she wasn’t. She was all pissed-off female.
“What do you mean built like me? Listen, you…you…” The scrape of the chair on the floor confirmed she wasn’t only done with breakfast, but he feared she was done with him too.
For some reason, he didn’t give a shit if she fired him; he just didn’t want to stop seeing her. Shit . “What I mean is—”
The finger pointing in his face was making him either want to tip the table over or toss her on it. He was still debating. “What you mean is that fat girls don’t deserve hot guys. That’s what you mean, Sean.” Now the slender finger wasn’t only pointing in his direction but nudging his bare chest. “Well, I’ve got news for you, stud, we deserve not only hot guys, but nice ones too, ones that can make pancakes and love our dogs.”
He looked down at Penelope, who was giving him an apologetic stare. He wasn’t sure if it was to confirm that she’d get another pancake or apologize for her mistress’s outburst.
“And—” He snapped his gaze back at the flaming blue eyes glaring at him. “Ones that will protect us and…and not think that we’re crazy and hurt us or think that we don’t deserve to be loved. No…no matter what has happened to us.”
What the fuck? “Abigail, I didn’t mean—”
“Never mind.” The sound of defeat was more than he could take. A punch to his ribs would’ve felt better.
He forced his gaze to stay planted on her flushed face and not on the cleavage that was staring back at him. “Abigail, it came out wrong. I just meant that women who are really pretty and sweet looking, they don’t go for guys like me. I look like the kind of life I’ve led, at least until a couple of years ago. Most women who are built with soft curves and, God forgive me, but fucking awesome breasts, don’t give me the time of day. You, Abigail, are real. Every inch of your gorgeous body is one-hundred-percent woman.” It was his turn to stand up. He crowded her against the table, watching as her once even breaths grew erratic. He cupped the back of her neck with his hand and massaged the soft hair flowing against his hand. Her brave finger tucked back against her chest as she stepped back and bumped her ass against the tabletop.
“S-Sean,” she whispered as he leaned in and peppered small kisses against her collarbone. “That…um, that feels so good. I’m mad at you.” Her voice said one thing, but as he continued to massage the back of her neck, her hips curled against him.
“Get up on the table, Abigail.”
“I can’t. I mean no. I mean I’m still—”
“Fuck it.”
“Oh!” Abigail’s heels went up as Sean’s big hands cupped her ass and planted her on the table.
“Open your mouth, Abigail. I’m going to fuck you right here. On the table. In front of your dog.”
BY THE SMIRK on his face, she wasn’t sure how serious he was. “Sean!”
He tucked his hands under her ass and pulled.
The thin pajama bottoms were tugged down to her thighs as she scrambled to pull them back up. God, it was light out. He’d see everything if he kept going. “Sean, you really don’t want to do this.”
“Oh yeah? Keep it up, baby…keep it up. Tinker Bell be damned.” He sneaked his fingertips beneath the elastic of her panties and pulled. Those took a bit more maneuvering, but he managed to strip her of those too. “Ah, silky.”
“Wh-What?” She held on to his hard shoulders to steady herself. She squeezed. Damn, he was built like a god. Her fingertips massaged his smooth skin, making her thighs melt and want to straddle his waist.
“Nothing,” he said. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”
She fidgeted as quickly as she could and tugged on the hem of her tank top. Jesus, last night she was tipsy with enough bravery to take
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