Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Can I put my finger on what it is? I’m not sure. Soul, maybe. The kind of edge that comes with having struggled a little to climb up a rung of the ladder. I need a man who can inspire me to be more, who’ll point out when I stagnate and support me to move into the more risky zone where personal progress and growth can be made. I want a man who makes me laugh, but recognizes when I need a strong emotional foundation. I need a man who’s wise but humble. A hard worker who knows the value of rest and family. Practical but poetic. An artist with his feet on the ground.
And that’s the problem. I want a man who doesn't exist.
I’ve left out the physical attributes because I don’t have a type, but it’d be nice if he took care of himself for his long-term health and fitness. The men in my family haven’t exactly kept themselves in good physical shape and it’s starting to show. When people’s main topic of conversation becomes their ailments, upcoming doctors’ appointments, and medications, something’s really wrong.
“I guess I’ll know it when I find it,” I say eventually, with a noncommittal shrug.
“That’s a cop out, if I ever heard one.” Jimmy shakes his head and I look away, feeling bad for disappointing him with my answer.
“Maybe spending time with us all will help you work it out?” Tom says.
“Maybe.” I adjust my position, stretching my legs out against the soft leather of the sofa, wishing they’d focus on anything else than me and this conversation.
“Sounds like a challenge to me.” Theron fixes me with his gunmetal eyes, the challenge smoldering with intensity, and a shiver of awareness runs through my whole body.
Dominance. The word pops into my head as Theron clicks his knuckles again, the power of his grip, and the strength of his body so close it’s palpable. Did I know that power in a man is a vital attribute for me before today? I’ve suspected it. The moment in romance movies where a man forces a woman against the wall for a searing kiss has always appealed to me. The idea of being restrained and pushed to pleasure-places I’ve never dared to dream about is what warms me most between my thighs.
There are men in this room I can feel are like that. And maybe more who have that side but don’t wear the tendency on their sleeve.
For the time it takes to blink, I consider what it might be like to let down my guard, and allow myself to explore what these men have to offer. It’d be like a taster selection at an exclusive restaurant, or a buffet at an all-inclusive hotel. Just a little sample of lots of flavors could help me work out what I really need and what I really should want.
But I’m not a person comfortable with using others.
And I’m certainly not confident enough to be the kind of woman who reaches out to take what she needs. I’m not Dawn, who could end up on the other side of the world in a relationship with nine perfect men.
I’m Allie, who’s still single. Still doing a job that frustrates and disappoints. Still trapped by invisible binds of my own creation.
“We should play a game,” Jonas suggests. He holds up an empty beer bottle. “How about spin the bottle?”
There’s a rumble of dissent amongst the group, and he throws his head back, laughing. “I didn’t mean for us to kiss each other,” he says. “I don’t swing that way. I meant Allie could spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on, she can kiss.”
“This is moving in an interesting direction,” I say quickly. “But maybe instead of kissing, I could ask questions?”
“Fun sponge,” Jonas says, but he hands over the bottle anyway.
And just like that, I’m set to play a stupid high school game with ten men.
10
THERON
When Allie takes the empty beer bottle and lays it on the table, I’m transported back to a party at my friend's house when I was thirteen and had my first kiss.
Except this game of spin the bottle is about being interviewed rather than seduced.
Shame.
Allie’s lips are plush and pink, and I know that kissing her would be like having a long cool drink on a hot day.
She’s a virgin.
Even thinking that word has my cock twitching in my briefs. I’m nearing thirty and most women my age are at the top of single digits, if not into double.
I’m not a misogynist. I don’t care about a woman’s sexual history so long as we can have fun and enjoy each other. But there is something special about a woman who’s been choosy. It feels like it’s inbuilt in me to appreciate Allie’s innocence. Hell, I’m a caveman and I’ll admit it.