Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
A slight smile tugs at the corner of her luscious mouth. I will myself to not think about how good it felt to make her come. How much I loved being the one to give her what she needed, how I want to do it again. Aaaand now it’s too late. My brain rewinds to her bedroom, to being submerged in the scent of her, the taste. Her hands in my hair, my mouth on her skin. And the fucking sounds she made. Wills is a badass every moment of every day, but she’s so pretty and sweet when she’s moaning my name and coming on my tongue. Sexy and formidable. I shake off the hormone haze as I take in the incredibly gorgeous specimen of a woman sitting behind her desk. A navy blazer hangs over the back of her executive chair. She’s wearing a pale blue blouse underneath, the top button unfastened, revealing a small heart-shaped locket. It contains pictures of her moms. I know this because once she thought she’d lost it and tore her office apart to find it. She’d been on the verge of tears when it fell out of the bottom of her shirt. Apparently, it had unfastened on its own and fallen into her bra.
“Why are you spying on me?” she snaps suddenly.
So much for discreet ogling. I don’t know what happened, but I’m ever familiar with guarded and prickly Wilhelmina. Her bark might be as bad as her bite, but I don’t care.
“I didn’t want to interrupt if you were on a call.” And I fully intended to run away if she looked unhappy.
She takes off her glasses and levels me with an impatient glare. “What do you need?”
To convince you that all of this is real and not just a farce, and to let me worship you for the rest of my life. “To take you on a date.” If I can’t go with the actual truth, I can at least go with direct honesty.
Her lips push out, and her forehead creases. “A date.” Her tone makes it sound like I’m asking her to go on a murder spree.
“Yeah. You know, we spend the day together, do a bunch of fun stuff, finish it off with dinner at a nice restaurant, and a walk on the pier if the lake doesn’t smell like a giant pile of dead fish.” Sometimes, Lake Ontario has a not-too-pleasing scent in the summer. I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t keep running them through my hair.
“Why?”
I expect this question, and the confusion marring her lovely features, but it doesn’t stop the shitty feeling that makes my stomach roll. Telling her I want to take her on a date, that I want to wine and dine her and treat her like a queen will only be met with a scoff and more disbelief. I know why she’s this way. I’ve seen her mocked in moments of vulnerability. I’ve watched people be kind to her face and so awful behind her back, even at work. It was short-sighted to believe adding sexual favors to our agreement would make her see the truth. But there was no way anyone else would be taking care of my fiancée’s needs. Especially not her fuck buddy. So again, I go with honesty she won’t question, even though it sucks.
“Brooklyn’s mom has been asking my mom for pictures.”
Willy’s head falls back and her eyes roll up to the ceiling. “Because we don’t have any online.”
“Yeah.” I should’ve seen this coming. Brooklyn’s mom is the town gossip. She’s always in everybody’s business, and she creates drama wherever she goes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Brooklyn was the queen of spreading rumors in high school. Probably still is. It always surprised me that Wilhelmina was her friend. But they’d hung out since elementary school, and Wills is as loyal as they come.
“It’s one giant headache after another, isn’t it?” Wills rubs her temples.
Spending an entire day with her, just the two of us, is my fucking dream. But she wouldn’t believe that’s true. She’d assume I’m mocking her.
“You know what she’s like. I explained that we were trying to keep things low-key so as not to create more PR drama for you, which my mom understands, but she’d like a few pictures. She’s pretty excited about the whole thing.” And there’s a five-million-percent chance that she’s also planning to make one of those photo collages to hang on the living room wall.
Wills heaves an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I guess you have a point about us needing pictures as a couple. How long do you think this would take? A couple of hours?”
“We probably need a whole day. Unless you want to spread it out over multiple dates.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds inefficient. Plus, your mom will want some variety, won’t she?” Her nails drum on her desktop. “We should schedule a bunch of activities in different locations. And I’ll bring a few changes of clothes so it looks like different days. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to plan for the reunion. We can tick a bunch of boxes, and Brooklyn’s mom can back the hell off.”