Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
That kiss. My god. That kiss. It shouldn’t be this good—I’ve kissed plenty of men in my life and it’s never, ever been like this before.
My heart is pounding and he has to feel it. I can feel his heart racing too, and I feel him getting hard against my belly, fuck, so freaking hard, and I can do terrible things to that dick if I wanted, delicious and incredible and fucked things, but I’m maybe a little more drunk than I realized, and this relationship isn’t about that.
It’s about business. It’s about getting what I want.
I pull away from the kiss and it’s like snapping my own neck.
He stares at me, breathing hard, his kiss-reddened lips still parted. He doesn’t move. It’s like he’s restraining himself.
“We shouldn’t.” The words tumble out of my mouth even though I really want to say take me upstairs.
He closes his mouth. His lips press flat. “We could,” he whispers.
“I can’t.” I move past him and hurry to the door.
“Wait. You said you’d stay the night.” He follows me and stops beside the steps.
I stare up and look back at him. “Is that a good idea?”
“I have a guest room.”
“Does the door lock?”
“It does, but I doubt it would keep me out.”
“That’s not very reassuring.” I chew on my lip. It’s late and I’ve been drinking, and maybe it is a good idea to crash here right now. Not to sleep with him—but to get used to this house. If that’s something we end up doing.
It’s amazing how much I can rationalize.
“Fine, but you keep your hands to yourself.” I straighten my spine and try to regain some of my dignity. “And this isn’t one of those times where I say one thing but mean another.”
He’s fighting a smile. “I never thought it was.”
“Good.” I hesitate on the bottom step. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
He says nothing and I hurry upstairs. I find the guest room, close the door, and lock it.
Then I proceed to get under the covers and take care of my own needs, my eyes squeezed shut, Brody’s name on my lips as I come in the darkness of my husband’s unfamiliar home.
Chapter 15
Elena
My head is killing me the next morning. I don’t know how I drank enough to be hungover, but somehow it happened.
I walk of shame right the hell out of his house at the ass crack of dawn and call Matty to send a car to pick me up. The driver appears and brings me to the oasis, and I don’t have to face Brody at all, lucky me.
I don’t know what I’d say to him. Apologize for teasing him, or maybe beg him to kiss me again.
Maybe I’d just run the hell away.
Not the best option, but I feel like it’d be rational at this point.
I get dropped off outside of my place, and I try to sneak inside, but as I’m unlocking my front door, I spot Stefania standing in the street in her running clothes. She’s grinning like a maniac at me and I curse as I slip inside and shut the door—
But she’s right behind me. “Caught you,” she says, barging into my house.
I groan and stumble into the kitchen. “Can you not right now? Please? We’ll talk about it later.”
She cackles with delight. “You’re hungover. You’re in the same clothes you wore yesterday. Oh my god, Elena, this is a walk of shame!”
I groan and collapse at the table as Stefania starts making coffee. She may be a pain in my ass right now but at least she’s still a good friend.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I whine when she joins me. “I did Sunday dinner with his family, and then he said he decorated his house for me, and then he wanted me to stay—”
She’s practically brimming over with excitement. “Tell me you two had sex.”
“No, we did not,” I say and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “He’s my husband. I’d just admit it, okay? But we didn’t.”
“Nobody would blame you if you boned down that stud,” Stefania says, sounding a little wistful.
“Extremely gross. You’re my brother’s wife.”
“And I am very happily married to Davide, but a girl’s got eyes, and Brody’s a very good-looking man.”
I want to bang my head against the table until I pass out. “It’s not like that.”
“Why not?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious.
I think back to all the excuses I made the night before. But one keeps coming up, and it’s the only excuse that really matters. “He doesn’t see me that way.”
“Doubt it. You’re hot.”
“Right, okay, I mean, he’d fuck me, but he takes every chance he gets to remind me that we’re only an arrangement and we aren’t real. I don’t want to sleep with my husband if it’s just—” I wave a hand in the air, signaling meaningless sex.