Bachelor Swap Lacey Black (books that read to you .txt) 📖

That was what I realized in the wee hours of the morning, when I was not sleeping, like the rest of the town.

So, I’m going to tell her everything and pray she understands, because her telling me to hit the road, while a real possibility, scares the hell out of me.

“Oh, well, I guess I could,” she says, pulling me from my own thoughts. “I don’t really have anything to put on after a shower though.” I can see the blush creeping up her neck.

Not wanting to embarrass her, I reply, “You can throw on one of my T-shirts and we can wash your clothes. This way, you have something clean to put back on…whenever you leave.” I step closer, invading her personal space and forcing her to look up to see my eyes.

She swallows hard. “I could do that.”

Mentally, I give myself a fist pump. Smiling, I pull her into my arms and lightly kiss her lips. Oh, I definitely want to deepen it, pressing her against the nearest hard surface and sliding easily between her legs, but now isn’t exactly the right time. Or place. So instead of showing her exactly how I feel with my mouth, I pull back. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

We’re able to slip into my building without much fanfare, but I can still feel a few sets of eyes follow us to the elevator. I can’t help but wonder if any of them were the jackasses who made Kyla feel uncomfortable last week. I know they said something. It was written all over her face, and when I glanced to the man escorting her up, I knew my suspicions were right. Part of me wanted to find those two assholes and force them to apologize for their inappropriate behavior, but something told me it wouldn’t mean a damn thing to them. They’d just do it again to the next woman who walked in.

I let us inside the apartment and make sure the door is locked behind us. Kyla sets her purse down on the couch and stands awkwardly by the door, as if uncertain what to do. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you a shirt and a shower.”

I dig one of my T-shirts out of drawer I’m using while here, as well as a pair of cotton shorts. They’ll both be way too big for her, but the shorts have a drawstring, and I’m sure she’d feel more comfortable somewhat covered.

“Use whatever you need in the shower,” I tell her, handing over the clothes. “Leave your stuff on the floor and we can throw it in the washer when you’re done.” I turn to walk away, because if I don’t now, I won’t at all. I’ll climb into that shower stall with her and do very dirty things to her under the water spray. “Oh, do you know what you want from that little bistro place? I can order it while you’re getting cleaned up.”

“Umm, I’m not too picky. You choose,” she replies shyly.

“They have a decent broiled fish with melted garlic and butter sauce. Their steaks are good too, as well as a bacon wrapped pork chop,” I tell her, leaning against the doorjamb with my shoulder.

“The fish would be great. Can I get fries instead of the baked potato? I’ve been craving fries.”

“You got it. Come on out when you’re all done,” I answer, closing the door as I go. Also ignoring the fact she’s about to get naked in that very bathroom.

Instead, I turn my focus toward calling in our dinner order. It’s the start of the evening rush, so I’m sure there’ll be a slight wait for our delivery. I guess that doesn’t matter though. As long as she’s here—and it helps that her clothes will be trapped in the washing machine, ensuring she can’t leave for a while—I’m good.

My order is placed and expected to be delivered within an hour, so while I wait for Kyla to finish her shower, I set the small breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen with plates and silverware. As I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, I slide it back in its place, opting for a bottle of some fancy beer instead. Did you know my brother has his imported beer delivered weekly with some service? I didn’t even know they had alcohol delivery services.

They definitely don’t offer this in Casper.

Ten minutes later, I hear the soft sounds of Kyla’s feet padding across the hardwood. When I look toward the threshold of the kitchen, I’m absolutely awestruck. She’s standing there, bare feet, wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts. It hits mid-thigh and leaves nothing to the imagination. Especially since she’s definitely not wearing the shorts I left her. Her hair is piled high on her head in a mess thing, which only seems to make her look even sexier.

“Hey, everything okay?” I ask, my voice a croak through my thick throat.

“Yeah,” she replies, stepping into the kitchen. “The shorts were too big, so,” she continues, shrugging her shoulders, “I thought I’d just leave them off.”

“Good.” I clear my throat. “Very good.”

Very good? Really, Mason?

“You have something to drink?” she asks, a coy smile on her face as she steps farther into the kitchen. For some reason, I take a step back, needing to keep a little distance between us. I can’t seem to think with her all…sexy like that.

“Oh. Yeah. Beer.” When she smiles again, I seem to snap out of my stupor. “Or wine. Shit, I’m sorry, I have beer or wine or water. Whatever you want,” I state, pointing to the fridge.

Kyla walks over and opens the fridge, slightly bending over as she reaches for a bottle of beer. The hem of the T-shirt creeps up, giving me an unobstructed view of the back of her thighs. Creamy, white, soft thighs.

I groan.

When she turns around, there’s a smile playing on her lips. Kyla holds out her bottle for me to open, our fingers grazing as I take