Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Thank everything! My sigh of relief is audible as I unclutch the phone from my chest and finally read the messages that are waiting for me.
ThunderStruck: Hello, Mystery Woman.
ThunderStruck: You there?
I put my fingers to the screen and respond as fast as I can.
ElizaBeth: I’m here.
His response comes ten seconds later.
ThunderStruck: I thought maybe you weren’t going to show.
ElizaBeth: Sorry about that. I was a little preoccupied, but yeah…I’m here.
ThunderStruck: Anything interesting doing the preoccupying?
ElizaBeth: If I told you, I’d no longer be the Mystery Woman.
ThunderStruck: Then who would you be?
ElizaBeth: I see what you did there. Nice try.
ThunderStruck: I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m a pretty determined kind of guy. When I want something, I usually don’t stop until I get it.
I don’t think his words are meant to be sexual, but man, do they spur some fantasies inside my head. What would it be like if Beau Banks wanted me?
ElizaBeth: I’m fully aware of what kind of guy you are, Beau.
ThunderStruck: Oh yeah?
ElizaBeth: Yeah.
ThunderStruck: How?
ElizaBeth: I have my ways.
Ways. I nearly snort. I’ve been watching Beau Banks like a creeper for more than half my life. I know everything there is to know about him that doesn’t happen behind closed doors or inside the zipper of his pants.
I am, of course, eager to fill in the gaps in my education posthaste.
ThunderStruck: Are you trying to tease me, ElizaBeth?
ElizaBeth: Is it making you mad?
ThunderStruck: Honestly? I’m not sure what it’s making me other than hard.
I sit up so quickly, I choke on saliva. It’s a Herculean effort, but somehow, I manage to almost die silently.
ThunderStruck: Sorry. That was unbelievably inappropriate. But this is the third time you’ve convinced me to come into this chat, and if that’s not a sign that I’m thinking with my dick, I don’t know what is.
ElizaBeth: Technically, I’ve only convinced you twice. One of those times, you convinced me.
ThunderStruck: I guess you got me there.
Through the wall, I hear footsteps. They move closer and closer before ending right at the wall. Best guess? Beau is now in bed.
Good grief, this is all so insane. And so wrong for a million different reasons.
But I can’t stop. Don’t want to stop.
ThunderStruck: How old are you, Mystery Woman?
I don’t know why, but having Beau Banks call me Mystery Woman instead of Mystery Girl makes me feel some kind of way. It’s the dream, really. Being seen as grown-ass June instead of Avery’s little best friend Juniper.
ElizaBeth: How old do you think I am?
ThunderStruck: Does it matter what I say if I know you’re not going to confirm it?
ElizaBeth: How can I be a Mystery Woman if I confirm things? That wouldn’t be very demure or cutesy of me.
ThunderStruck: Well, sure. Being secretive is very demure AND cutesy. But it’s also incredibly difficult to read.
ElizaBeth: Ah, the beauty of Midnight…
ThunderStruck: Marcus Hughes would certainly love the plug.
ElizaBeth: Well, we are in his app after all.
ThunderStruck: Is there a reason you wanted me to come on here tonight?
ElizaBeth: I have some new intel.
Not to mention how disappointing it was to go two whole days without hearing from him. I have a feeling I’d have come up with a reason to make this happen tonight whether I’d overheard Seth and Madeline or not.
ThunderStruck: About Beth with an S?
ElizaBeth: Uh-huh.
ThunderStruck: I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure if I want to hear it.
ElizaBeth: Oh. Really? Because I think you do.
ThunderStruck: I just don’t know that it’s gaining me more than it’s costing me.
ElizaBeth: What’s it costing you exactly?
ThunderStruck: My morals, I guess.
ElizaBeth: You could give me something in return if that’s your concern.
Your lips on mine. Your hands on my skin. Your body on mine. You inside me. Over and over again. My cheeks heat with embarrassment when I realize how rogue my thoughts have just gone. I have no shame. I have no control. I am an animal.
ThunderStruck: I was thinking more in terms of the behind-the-back thing, but I guess I should give you something too, to make it a fair exchange. What do you want?
ElizaBeth: I’m not sure… What are my options?
ThunderStruck: You want multiple choice?
ElizaBeth: It’s always the easiest part of the test.
ThunderStruck: All right. A. I take you out to dinner. B. I take you out to dinner. C. I take you out to dinner.
ElizaBeth: D. None of the above.
ThunderStruck: A nice dinner.
ElizaBeth: You and I both know I need to keep my spy status on the DL. Dinner would mean showing my face.
ThunderStruck: But what if I want to see your face?
ElizaBeth: Sorry, Beau, but that’s not an option.
ThunderStruck: I think it should be. I want to meet my Midnight Mystery Woman.
His Midnight Mystery Woman. Sigh.
If only he knew who I was and this were real.
It’s a sad thought and one that spurs me to tell him what I know instead of prolonging this conversation that’s twisting my heart up into a hundred tiny knots.