Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“I’m trying to do the same,” he says, then shrugs resignedly. “Except I don’t know if I’ve improved. I pegged you for a princess who’d kick me out for wanting dirty sex.”
I scoff. “What about me gives off the goody-two-shoes vibe?”
He gestures to Gigi’s red velvet throne. “Your cute dog.” Then to me, with a playful smile. “Your cute jeans. Your cute clothes. Your cute self.”
I poke his chest. “My naughty texts. My sexy clothes. My yes to your can I take you home and fuck you.”
He clears his throat. “Ahem. And your self-proclaimed good guy challenge. That made me think you wanted sweet, butterfly kisses and soft lovemaking,” he teases.
Touché. “Fine. You win that round,” I say with a laugh.
“Good. I like winning.” He goes thoughtful for a moment, his gaze turned inward like he’s turning something over in his head. I wait, curious as to what he’ll say, and when he’s ready, there’s a gleam in his eyes. “If you like dating challenges so much, I have one for you.”
I’m intrigued, in a good way, and I lean forward. “Hit me up.”
“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand. I need more of your mouth. Your pussy. Your sweet, beautiful tits,” he says.
Hello, five-alarm fire! This man can go from zero to sixty in the dirty department. I’m determined to keep up. “And I want more of your cock. Your mouth. Your hands.”
He lets out a dirty rumble. “Your production starts next week. My training camp starts then too. We have a big team meeting on Sunday, then on Monday, I take off for San Diego. How about we do this for the rest of the week?”
The suggestion is deliciously straightforward and clear. It also answers all my questions about rules. We now know what this is—a brief but scorching-hot fling. And what it isn’t—anything serious. He leaves town next week. I hunker down then for the show. We both need laser focus on our jobs.
It’s a relief that I’m on all the same pages as Gabe, but I tease him about the one thing I can. “What’s this exactly?”
He leans in to brush his knuckles along my cheek. “This is you screaming my name as I find new ways to fuck you every night,” he says.
A fog of lust wraps around me, and I give the only possible answer. “Yes.”
He shifts back in his stool, looking terribly pleased. “Good. Then, we’ll do this for the week, and you’ll be my date at your aunt Tilly’s big birthday party on Saturday.”
I smack his shoulder playfully. “Shut up!”
“Ouch,” he says, wincing playfully as he rubs his shoulder.
“Gabe! I was going to ask you to go with me. My mom is threatening to set me up with other guys from our hometown.”
He narrows his eyes. “Nope,” he says in a stern command.
“Nope what?”
His brown eyes darken. “You’re not going with someone else from our hometown.”
“I’m not?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“No fucking way,” he says.
“Why not?”
“You’re not going with someone from an app. You’re not going with someone from your show. You’re not going with some other guy. Case closed,” he says, then moves off the stool and wraps those strong arms tight about my waist. “You’re mine this week. You go with me. Only with me. I don’t want any other man even looking at what’s mine.”
What’s mine.
I ache from this possession. “I’m yours this week,” I murmur.
“You fucking are, Ellie. Mine, only mine. And I will treat you that way.” He slides a hand down my throat, over my chest, then squeezes my right breast. “Don’t want another man thinking he can have you.”
But Gabe can’t have me either. He’s not available, nor am I. We might be screwing, but we’re not truly dating, so it’s best to put all our cards on the table. “So, I’m like a one-week girlfriend?”
He seems to think about that, then says thoughtfully, “A fake real girlfriend.” Then he adds, “How’s that for a dating challenge?”
I smile. “Perfect.” But I want to be clear on what this means, so I ask, “At the party, we’re sort of pretending we’re together?”
He tilts his head. “The party where our book club moms will be serving apple pie and lemonade? Where our dads will be making barbecue? Playing lawn croquet? No, we’re not pretending we’re together.” He lets go of my breast so he can wrap a big hand around my ass, then he smacks my cheek, and I shudder. “We’re pretending we’re wholesome,” he corrects as he swats the other.
I gasp. “Can we practice being wholesome this week in public?”
He dips his face to kiss my neck. “We need all the practice we can get. So we’re gonna date publicly like we’re good, and privately I’m going to fuck you senseless,” he says as he kisses me.