Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
She looks like an alternate universe version of Cassie. They're both a few inches shorter than I am, with strong shoulders and curvy hips.
Only this woman is soft everywhere Cassie is sharp. She's got round glasses, a small nose, a wide chin. She's a little paler than Cassie too, with strawberry-blonde hair and light eyes.
They're both dressed like artists; only this girl looks like she doodles flowers in her notebookâmessy bun, huge glasses, mom jeans. Cassie looks like she'll kill you if you touch her headphones.
"You must be Damon." The woman looks to me with a wide smile. One that is all sincere let's be friends and no we're in competition, much less, I stole your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend.
I suppose, as Cassie's boyfriend, I should be glad this other woman took Frederick out of the picture. But I should also hate that she hurt the woman I love.
"I'm Tinsel." She continues without noting the irony of the situation. "It's really nice to meet you." She offers her hand.
I shake.
Cassie stares at Tinsel's hand like it's laced with arsenic. She nods hello and pulls her hands back to her sides. "Did you two take a gig as butlers?"
Tinsel laughs. "We wanted to keep things friendly. Bryce is in the backyard."
"Bryce and the producer?"
"No." Tinsel looks around the room. "We haven't seen him, actually. What is he doing?"
Frederick whispers something in her ear.
Cassie presses her lips together. "So you're done with your pitch then?"
"Yeah, we've just been hanging out and talking." Tinsel smiles. "We thought we'd grab you. So all five of us can hang out and talk."
Cassie fights a frown. It's not exactly a normal setup for a pitch. And it's beyond oblivious to expect her to enjoy "friendly" conversation with her ex and the woman he chose over her.
Fuck these two.
I wrap my arm around Cassie's waist reflexively. "What do you think, baby?" I turn to face her. I pull her body into mine.
Cassie looks up at me with surprise, then she blinks, and she sinks into the ruse. She brings her hand to my chest. She stares into my eyes with pure affection.
My heart thuds against my chest. The interest in her gaze is intoxicating. I have to fight to hold on to my senses. "Do you want to talk? Or would you rather keep not talking?"
"Why would anyone want to talk to you?" Cassie's lips curl into a smile. She teases me with the same tone she always uses, but it sounds different somehow, laced with affection and desire. "You're so much more fun when you're not talking."
I don't think. I bring my hand to her cheek, and I pull her into a kiss.
Her lips brush mine. It's soft. A hint of her. The subtle taste of mint lip gloss. The one she always wears.
It tastes like home.
Is that what happens when people fall in love?
No. I'm mixing things up.
She's close. She's there, in my subconscious, because I've known her a long time. That's all.
Then she digs her fingers into my chest, and my conscious thoughts dissolve. She feels like more than home. She feels like everything.
I need more.
My teeth scrape against her lip reflexively.
My body hums to attention. My breath. My heart. My dick.
Fuck.
She pulls back with a gasp as my hard-on presses against her stomach.
After a week working with her, I'm quick on the trigger. The drop in masturbation doesn't help.
Four times a day was a bit much. But four times a week isn't nearly enough to ease the sexual tension in the air.
Cassie gives me a long, slow once-over, but she doesn't mention the state of affairs. She smiles in that knowing Cassie sort of way. "Not talking is much better. But I can survive a few minutes of conversation."
"Five?" My body hums with a strange mix of need and pride. I may be a fuckup, but I'm a fuckup who makes her come. As far as these assholes know.
They watch us with blank stares, like they're not sure why we're making out, but they're not about to object.
Cassie smiles and offers me her hand. "Ten minutes of conversation, max."
The display does nothing to dampen Tinsel's enthusiasm, but Frederick can't manage to hide the jealousy in his stare.
It feels good. Way too good. But I don't care. I need the thrill. I need it like I need oxygen.
"Are you two gonna offer drinks too?" I lace my fingers with hers. "Appetizers, maybe?"
"There are drinks outside." Tinsel smiles and motions follow me. When we do, she leads us through a massive, modern living room to a breezy deck, right on top of the sand, a mere twenty feet from the Pacific Ocean.
Cassie takes in the space as she moves through the living room. She steps into the backyard and looks around, noting the view of the ocean, the bright blue sky, the infinity pool, and the long, round table where Bryce Bradey is sitting.