Page 92 of I Knead You Tonight

“I’m saying if you got a blow job bench, it would be used.” I lift a shoulder. “We’ll see if I’m the one on my knees or not.”

Slice Fourteen

Winston

Winston’s To-Do List:

Set up appointment with contractor for a new shower…with a blow job bench.

Slice Fifteen

Drew

I’m starting to believe I’m trapped in a parallel universe or something because I can’t seem to keep my hands off Winston.

I want to touch him, not just punch him.

I want to bearoundhim. Want to argue with him. Laugh with him. Simply sleep next to him.

I just want to…bewith him.

It’s…weird, yet exciting.

Andsofucking scary.

I’m sixty percent sure the spike in my libido over the last few days is because I’m making up for lost time—AKA being pregnant and single for so long—but it’s that forty percent that keeps nagging at me.

Maybe itisjust Winston.

Maybe I’m not stuck in a parallel universe.

Maybe…I like him.

It’s something I thought was impossible, but perhaps I was wrong.

Since living with him, I’ve seen a side of him I never paid any attention to before.

He’s not the lazy asshole he seems to let everyone think he is. In fact, he’s quite the opposite. Thoughtful in ways I didn’t expect, he’s always doing small things for me, like making sure I have a clean towel when I get out of the shower and letting me get a plate of food first after slaving over a hot stove.

I’ve learned a lot about his habits too.

He’s an early riser, which surprised the hell out of me the first time he took off before the sunrise to capture it on film. He is fiercely protective of and dedicated to his hobby, and the time he devotes to it blows me away.

If someone were to twist my arm, I might actually admit Winston isn’t the bad guy I’ve made him out to be.

I just wish he’d give his body and his responsibilities the same attention he gives his photography.

“What are you thinking about?” Winston asks, sliding the back door closed. “I swear I can hear your thoughts inside.” He flops down into the lounger next to me. “Here,” he says. “Thought you could use this.”

He’s holding out a pint of ice cream.

“What’s this for?” I ask, taking the offering because, though I didn’t ask for it, I’m not insane enough to pass up free ice cream.

“When you’re not trying to jump my bones or give me random blow jobs in the kitchen, you’ve been kind of…off. I know you’re not on your period, but something’s up. Ice cream always makes me feel better, so I figured it could work for you too.”

I smile, and my heart pitter-patters like it does when I look at my son.

It feels full.

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