Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Have I bitten off more than I can chew, though?
It’s like he was challenging me. And he awakened something in me I didn’t know was there.
Most of the day is spent on orientation: visiting the different departments, meeting coworkers, going through the onboarding process, and setting up my workspace. I lucked out with a desk by the window. It’s got a nice view from the fourteenth floor. And my manager, Tarissa, seems nice enough.
It’s not until midday when I’m standing in line for coffee downstairs, that I consider texting him. I tap my phone against my chin. I know I shouldn’t. We don’t message each other, but what harm could there be if we did? Ivy’s blocked my brother from hacking my phone and going through my messages so I could text him, right?
Would texting make things between us feel more serious? But fuck buddies still message, right? I mean, I’ve had fuck buddies before, but I always made a point not to message with them so Dutton couldn’t interfere.
I start typing out a question about Felix, but I realized last night that Ford’s kind of jealous of the attention I give the kitten, and it’s funny that he hisses at Ford. I made sure to spend as much time as I could with the little fluffball before I left.
And I still didn’t have the chance to ask about the jackets. So I text out a message asking about that but then end up deleting it. I kind of want to see his reaction about it in person, because it’s very unlike Ford. I remember going back for my jacket and a confrontation at the club when they wouldn’t let us back in to get it. Then it’s a little hazy after that.
I bite my bottom lip. Did I somehow force him into buying me one of every color?
Definitely not asking about that over text.
I finally settle on one thing I know he won’t be able to resist.
Me: I’m coming over this week. I need you to finish your job on this tattoo. I have to go to the beach.
I collect my coffee and go back to the office. I don’t check my phone until I’ve finished with work, and I release a breath because he did reply, though it was hours later.
Ford: What has your ass got to do with the beach?
Ford hasn’t really shown me he is the jealous type, but I’m curious if he’s capable of that emotion. I know we’re just fucking, but I want to prod him enough to see the real Ford, the man under the killer that not many people see.
I smile as I reply.
Me: Because my bikinis will show it, and I want a complete tattoo.
He replies quicker this time, and I read it as I’m stepping into my apartment.
Ford: Wear a cover-up. You shouldn’t be showing that ass to anyone but me.
Me: I’m looking forward to escaping to my favorite resort in Mexico, where everyone will see it and I’ll be fueled by margaritas. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.
I bite my bottom lip mischievously. It’s no secret that I do, in fact, have a favorite resort in Mexico, and there are plenty of photos from our girls’ trips in the last few years where we practically lived in our bikinis. Ford knows this, but it’s interesting to see how he reacts.
I hate that waiting for his next response makes me giddy. The thought of him being jealous causes a flutter in my chest. And after being completely dominated by him last night, I kind of want to act like a brat on purpose. Because I want that kind of hard fucking all over again, even though I’m battered and bruised.
“Oh, thank fuck you’re here. You didn’t reply to my text,” Ivy says as I open the door. I immediately hide my phone, as if she might discover who I’m messaging.
“Sorry, it was hectic at work,” I reply as I slip out of my heels. She’s wearing a tight black dress, and I smirk. “You have a date tonight?”
“Correction. We have a date tonight. If you read your messages, that is. You’ve got twenty minutes to get ready.”
“What?” I ask, surprised. She’s combing her hair as she looks in the living room mirror, deciding between different earrings.
“It’s a double date. And you can’t bail. Dutton’s not in town, and when big bro is away, it’s time for Billie to play.”
I scoff as I set my stuff down. “You know I don’t date, Ivy. You’ve met my brother. Do you want my date killed?”
“Relax. He’s not going to get killed. And even if he does, I don’t really care because I’m just trying to fuck his friend.”
I laugh. “That’s fucking horrible.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well, we’re far from saints. Put something cute on. His friend saw a photo of you and thinks you’re really hot. Shocker. Who wouldn’t think that with those bountiful tits of yours.”