Serviced (Getting Dirty Series Book 1) by Tory Baker

Author:Tory Baker [Baker, Tory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

Braxton

My woman is a damn minx, dropping what she said outside the truck. Now we’re back at my place. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” We’re standing in the entryway to the older-style ranch home. It sits on just under an acre. The house was built in the 1950s, and for the most part, it hasn’t changed, besides the kitchen and bathrooms.

“You’re entirely wrong about that. It’s perfect.” I look at my place through her eyes. It’s not as big as the home she grew up in—in fact, it’s probably a quarter of the size—so, for her to say that, it makes me proud of it. It doesn’t hurt that when I found this place, it was with Rowen in mind. With us making this place into a home, building a swing set for our future kids in the backyard, and fixing it up to what she would like best.

“Thank you. Come on, I’ll show you around.” This home isn’t like the usual homes people have nowadays. You walk through the small entryway, and to the right is a study. The left part holds a dining room. When you walk further, there are stairs that lead to the spare bedrooms, one bathroom, and a game room. The kitchen and living room are the only things that have the open floor plan, that was after I tore down a wall to make it that way, then off that is the master bedroom. Rowen’s eyes are wide, her mouth almost gulping air after she sees it. I set her bag on the dresser in the master bedroom.

“Braxton, seriously, you downplayed your home so much. It’s amazing,” she breathes out. I take her in, standing at the edge of my bed, not a care in the world that this was a foreclosure and I’ve put the bare minimum into it. I mean, hell, even the furniture is bare bones. I wanted that to be something we both put a stamp on.

“Rowen,” I groan. My only thoughts are of seeing her naked, my body between her spread legs, my bed finally beneath her luscious body.

I watch as she steps out of her shoes, placing them methodically beside the foot of the bed. She goes to unbutton her jeans, and that’s when I step in. There’s no way in hell that she’s going to do that herself. I nudge her hands away, taking the time to divest her of the sweater she’s wearing, the tips of my fingers grazing her smooth skin as I lift her shirt up and over her head. When I discard it, she’s in a white lacy bra, a color I’m noticing she likes a lot.

“I want to undress you too.” She takes a step closer to me. Her arms come up, pushing my jacket off my shoulders, her hands gripping my biceps before moving to the bottom of my shirt. I help her take it off. Our height difference makes it hard for her unless I crouch down, and even then, she has to get on the tips of her toes.

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