Bone: Redemption Ink: Book 4 by Madison Flora

Author:Madison, Flora
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

6

Astrid

Bone’s house is nothing like I imagined it. There isn’t a speck of dust to be seen. He insisted I change out of my dress and into his clothes. I insisted on taking a shower first, a surefire way to freak him out. Bad boys don’t dig clingy women. To my surprise, he pulled a fluffy towel from the linen closet and led me to a sparkling clean shower. He must’ve showered in another bathroom because when I enter the great room post-rinse, Bone’s hair is wet and he’s only wearing a pair of loose sweatpants.

“Have a seat.” He cocks his head toward the barstool at the kitchen island. That unruly hair of his, damp and darker than normal falls over his eye. Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into.

Thanks to Bone’s marble hard back flexing and stretching as he leans down over the stove, I nearly miss the step leading up to the kitchen. Bone glances over his shoulder and I play it off, pushing my glasses up my nose. The smell of sizzling bacon fills the air and my stomach doubles over on itself; I really did work up an appetite after a night with Bone.

“That smells amazing.”

“Good.” He turns to me, a sparkle in his steely gray eyes. “I fucking love bacon.”

“Me too,” I say, and tiptoe to the stool wearing his boxer shorts and oversized t-shirt. Bone whistles while he cooks, cracking eggs into a bowl and getting plates down for the both of us. I watch him work with a smile on my face. An odd feeling of comfort and familiarity washes over me as I saddle up to the barstool.

Wait. No. Cue the tire’s screeching.

This was not the plan. I was supposed to be out of here by now. I cannot fall for another bad boy. But watching him here, in his pristine, clean apartment with fluffy towels and a fridge full of food, I’m starting to think there’s more to Bone than meets the eye. Maybe he’s not a bad boy after all?

And I’ve never dated anyone who isn’t.

Bone slides the plate in front of me. I gasp at the sight. “Who are you, Martha Stewart?”

“I grew up with three sisters. Three older sisters. They always made me help them with everything including cooking and cleaning.”

The white plate in front of me holds two fried eggs, two pieces of buttered toast, two pancakes, and a heap of bacon. My eyes flit up to the hulking man, now leaning over me waiting for my seal of approval. “This is much better than the diner.”

“Told you.” A look of pride crosses his face. “Eat up.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I want to see your face when you taste it.” He stares at me with hopeful eyes. Eager and excited for me to eat what he’s made me.

“Far be it for me to deny you this pleasure,” I tease. I grab a piece of bacon, crispy and well-done. It melts in my mouth. Then I scoop up some eggs, and wash them down with a bite of golden pancake.

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