Lunchtime Chronicles: A Yummy Sub by Olivia Gaines & Lunchtime Chronicles

Author:Olivia Gaines & Lunchtime Chronicles [Gaines, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Davonshire House Publishing
Published: 2019-11-11T18:30:00+00:00

JEFFRÍ COULDN’T CONVINCE the man to go home. One hot sexual romp on top of a desk in a morgue, a hot bath, a good meal later and he refused to move. The overzealous fellatio she provided also didn’t help. Wyatt lay out on the bed like a swollen puppy wanting his belly scratched after she was done with him.

“It has been a great day with you, but it’s time for you to go home,” she told him, pushing on his leg.

“Nope, not going,” he said, reaching overhead to grab a pillow. Fluffing the square buckwheat-filled head rest, he shoved it under his noggin. “I rode on the back of a motorcycle, had a wonderful goblet of wine, and a fantastic dinner. I even had a wonderful soak in the tub. That hummer was Grade A, and I can’t move. I don’t trust myself to drive home.”

“Well, you may sleep in the guest room,” she told him, pushing at his leg again.

“Or we can pull back the covers, slip into the bed, and I get to cuddle with you, which is one of my all-time favorite things to do,” Wyatt said, rolling off the bed.

He kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, and removed his trousers. She hadn’t taken them completely off when she removed his body part to suckle. Wyatt yanked back the covers, climbed in the bed, and patted her side. Jeffrí was hesitant, bordering on defiant.

“This isn’t funny, Wyatt,” she exclaimed. “If you’re planning to stay the night, do it in the other room.”

“Why, because of your night terrors?”

“Yes, they are horrible,” she said. “I wake up all sweaty, terrified, and sometimes, as I’ve been told by my mother, I scream in my sleep.”

Wyatt leaned over in the bed, reaching for her hand. “Jeffrí, a great deal of night terrors stems from anxiety. You are afraid to close your eyes and sleep out of fear of seeing the accident replay over and over again in your dreams. This activates your brain and causes more anxiety, which in turn creates the terrors.”

“And when did you become a fucking psychologist?”

“When my mother went through the same thing after witnessing the death of my father in a car accident, and he died in her arms,” Wyatt said. “He died a few feet from her job, broadsided by a truck. She couldn’t go back to work because it held too many bad memories. It took years of therapy, yoga, and everything else I could find, but we found something that worked. Come to bed. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, as his hands reached for her body, “Is this how you took care of your mother’s night terrors?”

“Oh, hell no,” he chuckled. “I took her to a hypnotist who taught her relaxation techniques before bed. The anxiety comes from knowing you will have a restless night. I’m going to relax you so you’ll be able to sleep the whole evening.”

Jeffrí sat down on the bed, a wry smile on her lips, her hand covering the dimpled skin on her face.

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