“Of course.” I reached for the tissue box on my side table, wiping my tears away. The last thing I needed was for Bass to hear my cry. I needed him to see that I was a strong woman because if he knew what I was feeling, he’d go into panic mode, and I didn’t want him to do anything drastic. As much as I wanted to be the only thing that ruled his world, I didn’t want him to regret anything. Yeah, I loved him enough that I was willing to endure all this pain for his welfare.
“Thank you, agápe mou,” he murmured into the phone.
When he called me that, the hurt temporarily left my heart. For a few seconds, I basked in the feeling, reminding myself how good it was to be with him—to be around him, to be loved by him. Bass loved like no other man, I knew that pretty well. His love kept me floating. And in this very moment, his love transported me into that heaven.
“You know you have the huskiest bedroom voice?” Closing my eyes for the second time, I sighed into mouthpiece. “I miss you, every day, but when we talk, all I have to do is close my eyes and listen to you. Then I feel like you’re right here next to me.”
That made him laugh, which only delighted me even more. “The things I’ll do to you when I see you, Emma Anderson…” That sexy voice was out to murder my hungered body. It was so bad that I had to restrain my hand from reaching down below and begging Bass to continue that sentence.
“Baby…I love it when you pull my hair from behind while you kiss my ear,” I blurted out, breathless, as the images of us making love played in my mind.
“Emma…I’m on a break—” he came out hissing and groaning before releasing a curse. His reaction made me easily picture him taking a break, possibly eating a snack on the side with a hot coffee as he tried to calm his erection down.
Bass junior was so predictable. “Poor mini me,” I teased, rolling onto my stomach with my hand on the phone still stuck to my ear.
There were voices in the background, but I couldn’t make out what was being said because Bass cleared his throat and spoke over it. “So, what are your plans for the weekend?”
This weekend was my birthday, but Bass couldn’t come home until the week after. I wasn’t sure if he did know it was my birthday. Half of me wanted to announce it, just to make sure he knew, but a large part of me thought that it might sound like I might be hinting for him to get me a present. I didn’t want him to think that I was out to get as much baubles I could get while with him. It was never about that; I made sure that he knew it too, since the very beginning.
“Oh, I was wondering if I could stay in your house. Trista’s having everyone over at Taylor’s, but I want to stay in your place. Is that okay?” Being in his house, surrounded with his things—his smell—made me feel closer to him somehow.
“Why are you asking for permission? It’s your home, too.”
He was so nice to me. “Technically, it’s yours. I just didn’t want to be all cocky and barge in there as if I own the place simply because we’re dating. That would be rude.”
When Bass responded, his tone shifted. “Do you want me to put your name on the title so you’ll feel more comfortable barging into our home, as you put it?” he said it with all seriousness.
That was not what I was getting at. Goodness, not everything was about monetary value. “No, of course not.”
Bass persisted, “I could if you wanted me to.”
I think I was blushing from head to foot. Why did he have to be so generous? I knew he spoiled his women from what I had read in the tabloids, but I didn’t want to be one of those women. Nope. Not happening.
“Please, don’t. I’m perfectly happy with what I have. People already assume I’m using you, I don’t need gold digger attached to my name, too.”
There was a big, fat, elephant pause.
“It’ll be all be yours one day,” he spoke, breaking the silence.
He needed to