Page 89 of Weston’s Treasure

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“How was your day?” Weston asked, lying on his bed holding his phone to his ear.

“Boring. It’s fall, so it’s not slow, but it’s not summer,” Silver answered. “How was your day?”

“Finished cleaning out your apartment. Packed up what was salvageable—mostly clothes and some papers we found. Loaded the boxes in the back of the Suburban and brought them back to the farm for you to sort through later. We tossed the rest and the dumpster we rented was hauled.”

He heard Silver suck in a breath.

The day had been shit. Damn, the last week had been hell with Silver back to work and on a two-week rotation, meaning he only got scraps. Mostly at night when she bedded down and had a few minutes to call him.

He knew it was going to suck, he knew he was going to miss her sleeping next to him, seeing her every day, but he hadn’t known it was going to feel like a knife to his gut.

“Thanks for doing that,” she whispered and her soft voice relayed just how much she meant those words.

“Not a problem, babe.”

“Seven more days until I’m home.” That whisper didn’t fill him with the warmth of her gratitude—it slammed into his chest, her calling his house home, and made his cock jerk thinking about her once again sharing his space and his bed. “You’re still sure you’re okay with me staying with you until I find an apartment?”

That was something they’d discussed before she’d left for work—her staying at the farmhouse with him, instead of a hotel. And miraculously it hadn’t turned into a fight when Weston had suggested—bossily because he knew no other way—that she not bother with a hotel because she’d never actually see the inside of the room she rented.

When the topic had come up, Weston braced for the argument but it never came. He watched as her back had strung tight and she opened her mouth, but before she unleashed her attitude, Silver had clamped her mouth shut. He’d given her the time she needed to work through whatever was going on in her head. After a few questions, mainly ascertaining Chasin would be okay with her staying, and Nixon, being the owner of the house, wouldn’t mind, she agreed.

“Lookin’ forward to you comin’ home,” Weston said instead of covering ground they’d gone over.

“Me, too. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Can’t lie, Silver, it sucks. But I suspect we’ll get used to the routine.”

“I guess you’re right.” Silver paused and went back to whispering. “I miss sleeping next to you, honey.”

Her admission didn’t make his cock jerk, it made it throb. It’d been seven days since he had her and it’d be seven more before he’d have her under him. Seven very long fucking days.

“You someplace private, with a door that locks, where no one can hear you?”

“Weston.” Her breathy voice took him by surprise. He thought he’d have to coax her into his proposal, but his name falling from her lips on a slight moan, told him he did not. She was on board.

His hand moved to his cock and he squeezed the base. “Door locked, babe?”

“Yes.”

“Can anyone hear you?”

“I’m alone. Travis is on vacation and Rodger went out to get groceries.”

Fuck. Perfect.

“Take off your shirt, sweetheart. Bra, too, if you’re wearing one.”

“I’m not.”

Images of her full tits assaulted him. Dusty pink nipples that puckered at the slightest touch.

Weston waited. He heard fabric rustling, then she was back.

“It’s off.”

“Good, baby. I want you to slowly glide your hand up your belly and circle your nipple.”