Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Joel’s wet swim trunks were draped over the towel rack.
I sighed as I stared at them from the toilet, wondering how I had passed out so hard. Had he slept here? Did he come in with just enough time to change and leave again?
I needed to find him, to talk to him, and yet, when I popped an Advil and made my way back to the bed, the first thing I did was reach for my phone and pull up Theo’s text thread.
There were no new messages.
Still, I stared at that thread, at those two innocent texts he’d sent after that first night I’d given him my number.
And then his words from last night filtered in through the fogginess in my head.
For some impossible reason I cannot fathom, I care for you.
I shivered at the memory of his voice, his eyes, his hand on my cheek. I’d spent the night in a mixture of dreams and nightmares, and in all of them, he was present.
My stomach tightened so fiercely I doubled over in bed, and I rolled onto one side, shaking my head as question after question assaulted me. Theo Whitman was a billionaire CEO of a Fortune 100 company. He was one of the richest men in the world. He was devastatingly handsome and could easily have any woman he wanted with just a snap of his finger.
Why was I even on his radar at all?
And why did I love that I was?
When he looked at me, my body reacted in a way that was foreign and exciting, fresh and new and terrifying. I wondered what it would be like, to be his, to have walked up to that party last night and been hauled up over his shoulders and back downstairs as soon as he saw me. What would he do to me if he had me to himself?
If we spent a night together?
I groaned, covering my face with my pillow to snuff the noise. “You have a boyfriend, Aspen,” I reminded myself, the words muffled where they echoed back to me.
That reminder made my stomach upset for a completely different reason.
I pulled the pillow from my face, staring up at the ceiling as I replayed the scene at the pool. Joel had tossed my feelings aside so easily, and more than that, he’d chosen partying over making things right with me.
I needed to talk to him.
But I wanted to talk to Theo.
Everything in my body ached to go up on the main deck, seek him out, demand he explain what he meant by everything he said last night. I wanted him to tell me I imagined it. I wanted him to laugh at the audacity and call me crazy — because that’s how I felt — absolutely, certifiably insane. Silly little girl, why would I have any interest in you?
But perhaps more than anything?
I wanted him to tell me more.
I wanted him to tell me he wanted me, he needed me, he couldn’t stop thinking about me. I wanted to know his dreams were filled with me, that this wasn’t all in my head, that the electricity I felt when he was near was coursing through his veins, too.
I wanted to be the source of every desire Theo Whitman had.
My body awakened to the thought, nipples hardening as I squeezed my thighs together against the ache between my legs. My breath grew shallower the more I thought about it — about his sultry eyes, his cocky smirk, his broad shoulders in his fitted suit.
I slipped a hand under my panties, shivering at the cool touch against my core.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Theo’s face.
And I pretended my hand was his.
It’s kept me up at night, Aspen.
I’ve had one question haunting me.
I couldn’t bite back the moan when one finger slipped inside me, and that seemed to jolt me back to reality.
My eyes shot open, and I ripped my hand from my panties, sitting up quickly with a frustrated groan.
What is happening to me?
I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or scream or give in to my desire. No one would know. Joel was at work, Theo wasn’t here, of course. I was alone. Would it be so bad to get lost in a little fantasy for a few moments?
Yes, Aspen, seeing as how that fantasy is not about your BOYFRIEND.
I felt like a meteor spiraling in space, like a bottle teetering dangerously on a choppy sea, safe for now but just one wrong wave away from drowning.
So, I reached for my phone again, and this time, I called the one person I hoped could ground me.
“Hey, big sis, how’s life of the rich and famous?”
As soon as Juniper’s voice was on the line, my eyes welled with tears again. “It’s… interesting,” I answered. “How are you?”