A Love Like the Sun by Riss M. Neilson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Riss M. Neilson
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.7 MB
- Price: Free
THE WAY IT SHOULDN’T BE DONE
IF MY CALCULATIONS ARE CORRECT, I’LL BE ALONE IN THE SHOP FOR AT least ten minutes before my mom comes back from the bakery, which is
plenty of time to take a sexy picture. I sit in a chair at the break table in the
back room and slide my pants down. Not all the way, just enough to expose
my soft belly and the black panties creased between my hips and thighs. I
take a few shots and stare at them, positive that they’re sexy enough to
entice someone and leave them wanting for more. The someone is a guy
I’ve been on five really good dates with but have only slipped some tongue
before we said good night. His patience with me not wanting to rush sex is
attractive, but this morning he asked if I’d send him a little something, and
I’ve been distracted all day thinking of taking risks. I pick one, take a
breath, hit Send.
Darius looks at the picture immediately but doesn’t answer back with the
same energy. My heart races in my chest while I wait. And wait.
Read. Read two minutes ago.
The bubbles finally pop up. Darius is typing. He stops. Starts again. And
then…
“Laniah Leigh Thompson, why in the world are your pants at your
knees?”
I startle, drop my phone onto the table, and scramble to my feet. I’m
twenty-five years old and the tone of my mother’s voice can still strike fear
in my heart. “I…uh.”
She takes a step forward, a paper bag and cup tray in her hands, dark
penciled-in eyebrows low on her face. “Were you taking a…a nude
photograph?”
The back of my neck burns while I pull up my pants and button them. A
heartbeat. Two. “I was…checking for swelling, actually,” I say.
“Swelling?” she repeats.
“Mm-hmm. Yeah. Just thinking of my doctor’s appointment in a couple
of days.”
I’ve been having headaches, and I think it’s from elevated blood
pressure, so this seems like a believable lie. Still, we stare at each other for
the longest thirty seconds of my life—her top lip curling a little, suspicion
in her eyes, a small smile on my face, convincing enough I hope. So much
for Seven Stars Bakery being lunchtime-rush busy. She finally sighs and
places the cups on the table. I hurry to snatch my phone and pocket it, even
though she’s not wearing her bifocals to see anything that might be waiting
on my screen.
“You swear I was born yesterday,” she says. “I just hope you’re not
being stupid, but whatever.”
Whatever has been her general mood lately, and I briefly wonder how
she would have reacted to me sending dirty texts if things were different.
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