Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I don’t plan to sell you. You’re too expensive to get rid of.”
“I’m actually not.” I smile as I receive another glass.
“Irreplaceable,” I hear him mutter under his breath. The champagne has finally kicked in, and I’m feeling a little better as I unbuckle myself. “There’s a bed in the back if you’re tired.”
“Is that where you sleep with other people?” I ask.
“No, I told you…” Oh yes, he doesn’t sleep with anyone, he only has sex with them. “I’ve been seeing someone.” When those words leave his mouth, my heart stops, and my body locks tight as I reach the door that leads to the bedroom.
Seeing someone.
Is that what we do?
See other people?
I guess we never said we were exclusive, so that’s only fair, but I had hoped…
Then again, all we had was sex.
Great sex.
There was little else other than that when I really think about it.
Turning back around, I see him watching me for a reaction.
“You aren’t going to say anything?” he asks.
“Do you need a congratulations?” I ask, angry and confused. “I haven’t been seeing anyone else. I didn’t know we did that.”
“I haven’t been fucking anyone else, Oriana. I meant seeing a therapist… To help me.”
Oh. Oh, sugar, now I feel bad. But happy he is doing that. Is it for me? Or him? I hope it’s for him.
“Is it helping?”
“I’ve only had two sessions, but yes, I think it may be.” His fingers strum on the seat.
“Good,” I whisper.
Then I head for the bedroom and pass out on the bed.
Chapter 25
Get your tits out
Jake
Oriana doesn’t answer when I knock on the door. She’s been in there for the duration of the flight, and I haven’t seen her. I thought I would give her some space, not realizing she was a nervous flyer.
I probably should have asked her the question.
But this is all new to me.
Not once in my life have I had a romantic relationship with someone.
I fuck.
And I like to fuck.
I’m even good at fucking.
But this—she—is all new to me.
I’m not sure exactly where the shift came from or when I started wanting her for more than sex. But it’s there, heavy as all fuck, like a massive burden and it is all her. How would I take it if she chose not to see me again? I would try to respect her decision, but fuck, that would be hard.
Knocking again, I wait for Oriana to answer before pushing the door open. I find her sprawled out over the bed—her hair a wild mess having fallen out from her bun—and sound asleep. Stepping closer, I touch her leg. “Oriana.” She doesn’t move. I sit on the bed next to her and gently shake her shoulder. “Oriana…”
She stirs, and when she does, her top shifts, and her breasts fall out.
Fuck.
“Oriana,” I say again, louder now. She opens her eyes and stretches. “Your tits are out.” She looks down and automatically pulls up her shirt. Rising to sit, she reaches to the other side of the bed and picks up her bra, and slides it on underneath her shirt, doing that girly thing they do when putting on or pulling off a bra using the shirt for modesty.
“I can’t sleep with my bra on. They dig in,” she says quietly, getting up. “Are we there?”
“We are,” I answer and sit for a moment as she sweeps out of the room. I hear Maria’s voice, so I stand and go out to greet her. Both ladies turn to me and walk up the aisle.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing company on this trip,” Maria comments.
“Yes. Maria, meet Oriana.” I wave my hand at Maria. “Maria is my cousin,” I tell Oriana, then add, “And my assistant.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.” Oriana offers her hand, but Maria ignores it. “Well, okay then.”
“You didn’t say you were bringing anyone. Does she know why we’re here?” Maria asks.
“Say fucking hello, Maria.” I nod to Oriana.
Maria looks to Oriana and gives her the wort half-assed “Hello,” then her focus is back on me. “Happy now? One of the parties has already started. Is she accompanying you? And if so, she can’t wear that.” She nods at what Oriana is wearing.
“Did you bring a dress?” I ask Maria.
“I did.”
“Good, give it to her.”
“That’s my dress,” she argues.
“Now it’s Oriana’s,” I bite back to her. She is the only woman I fight this much with. I think she secretly likes it. But Maria is good, and family. It’s why I didn’t fire her ass long ago.
“I don’t have to wear your dress,” Oriana says to Maria, then she turns to me. “Don’t make Maria give me her dress. It’s hers.”
“Technically, it’s mine. I paid for it. Maria has plenty of dresses, all bought with my money.”
“I do. Every time he pisses me off, I go and buy something outrageous because he doesn’t know how to apologize.” She shrugs, smiling. “It’s fine. You need a dress, and I have another.” She walks off the plane without another word.