Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Oh… shall I?”
“No,” he cuts in, grinning at me smugly. “We’re good. But please fetch us the whiskey. I could use a drink.”
She nods happily and goes back the way she came.
I’m now less aware of the mess and more aware of the hands squeezing my wrists. Visions of him lifting them over my head and….
Nope. Not going there with that one. It has just been such a long time.
He breaks me out of my thoughts by asking cautiously, “Are you going to sleep with him?”
My eyes swing up to his and I almost choke on my words. “That’s a really personal question.”
“We’re both adults here, it’s just sex, we can talk about it.”
“You’re… you’re my boss,” I remind him, blinking like he’s crazy. “This is awkward.”
“Probably.” He doesn’t seem phased by anything I said. “I just want to warn you that he’s a dog. He has slept with more women than we have in the building.” He rubs my wrists softly with his thumbs and holds my gaze. “Just stay safe and guard your heart.”
I try to pull away but he holds tight. “Thank you for the advice but I’m not about to sleep with him on the first date…” That’s a lie, I might but he doesn’t need to know about that.
“Five-date rule?”
“No… oh my God. Do we have to talk about this?” I mutter, embarrassed.
“No, of course not, but I’m interested. I haven’t been on a date for years like you youngens.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re hardly old.”
“No, but I am married.” His ring shines in the orange glow of the interior lights.
A bottle of whiskey and two glass are brought over, both have ice in them. She pours us a finger’s worth in each, and Mr. C allows me use of my hands to actually take a sip. It’s great whiskey, it doesn’t burn my throat too harshly, but I still ask for lemon soda to mix it with. She brings me a cold can and I drain my drink all too quickly after adding that.
Mr. C pours me another and himself.
“What’s acceptable now?”
“Sorry?”
“I mean in the dating scene. What’s acceptable? How many dates before the big finale?”
I laugh through my nose and relish the warming feel of the whiskey as it enters my system. I drink some more before answering, “I don’t know, maybe three dates? I don’t date so this is all new territory for me too.”
“You’ve never dated?”
I shake my head. “I’ve dated, just not for a really long time. Since my freshman year of university.”
“You haven’t been on a date in five years? Has nobody asked?” He looks perplexed.
“People have asked but that date didn’t exactly go very well…” I sip more of my drink as my cheeks heat.
“Was he a jerk?”
“No, no… quite the opposite. He was lovely. Very kind and attentive.”
“But?”
I laugh nervously and drink more. He refills my glass and adds more soda. “It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m not judging.”
“Aren’t you?” I retort and he winces, feeling my dig. “Sorry. That was unnecessary.”
“Not at all, I’d say I deserved it.” He downs his second drink in one gulp and this time I pour him another. We share a smile. “So… tell me… what happened? Did you fart? Did you vomit on his shoes?”
“I wish.” I rub my eyes under my glasses with the tips of my fingers and let my head flop back onto the sofa. “Iblurtdownmber.”
“What?” he laughs, not catching my confession.
“I blurted out a number,” I cry, louder this time but he still looks confused. “When he finished, I said one hundred and fifty-three.”
“What?”
“It was my first time. I was nervous… so I counted, and I got up to a hundred and fifty-three and he thought I was… mocking him.”
He presses his lips together.
“It’s okay, you can laugh. I do. Every time I consider ever having sex again,” I groan and to his credit, he doesn’t laugh… not very loud anyway. “So, I don’t do sex.”
“Pax is probably going to expect sex eventually.”
“I know but… he’s more skilled, so I figured that when the time comes, I probably won’t have a head clear enough to count, and even if I do, there’s hope he’ll last longer than three minutes and won’t be offended when I shout out his number.”
He slaps his hand to his mouth, unable to contain it, and then he roars with laughter and I pick up the cards from the floor just so I can throw them at him again.
I can’t believe I told him that. I’ve only ever told Laurie that.
“You’re hilarious,” he says after a moment, finally calming himself. “And so adorable. You have no idea.”
“That’s an ego boost if I ever heard one, Ezra,” I retort, rolling my eyes and throwing more cards at him.
“See?” he asks, wagging his brows. “Was that so hard?”
“Calling you Ezra or ignoring the cards?”