Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I glanced up at him through my lashes before my gaze dropped again. “You know… how to… do things.”
He was quiet for so long I thought maybe I wasn’t making sense, but when I found the gall to look at him again, his eyes were dark and heady, his chest rising and falling in a restrained manner.
“You want me to teach you how to suck my cock, Chloe?”
Fuck.
My body burned, skin flushing the same bright pink it had when he’d made me come.
I nodded. “I want you to teach me everything.”
A hot breath shuddered out of him, and he looked away from me and toward the house before giving a curt nod.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
And then he bolted like if he stayed one moment longer, our first lesson would begin right here and now.
Damn that man and his restraint.
* * *
The next morning, I made the strongest cup of tea of my life and pulled up Reddit.
I posted an update.
I shared the latest news, but left out the details.
And I proceeded to ask for every piece of sexual advice the Internet could give me — starting with how to let my boss teach me how to fuck without catching feelings.
Doing Our Best
Will
I realized, in the week that passed after that fateful night, that I both loved and hated the deal I’d made with Chloe Knott.
I hadn’t seen a single flaw with it when I’d taken the approximately ten seconds to think it through as I stormed into the pool house. We both wanted each other. We were alone for the night. If we made a deal for just sex, then everything would be great.
And fuck, was it great.
I’d thought about that night every moment since.
I couldn’t watch Chloe eat her breakfast without thinking about eating her. She knew it, too, because when she’d catch me staring at her, those pretty cheeks would flush pink the way I loved them to, and I’d smirk and look away knowing she was thinking exactly what I was.
But as much as I wished I could say everything was peachy, there were complications.
The first being that I had zero fucking clue before I spread her out on the pool house kitchen island that she was practically a virgin.
My body still hummed anytime my brain played back how she’d asked me to teach her, and everything inside me wound tight just begging for the chance. We hadn’t found one yet. Between hockey, school, and Ava — there wasn’t a whole lot of opportunity to fuck without the high risk of being caught.
Oddly enough, waiting for round two with Chloe wasn’t even the most difficult part of this mess. In fact, that part was kind of… fun. Exhilarating. I knew the wait would only make the next time I got to touch her that much better.
No, the hardest part was that I fucking missed her.
Apparently, when Chloe gave her word, she gave it with her whole chest. I’d told her I couldn’t be her friend. I’d looked her right in the eye and made her agree to stop asking about my life and to stop telling me about hers.
And so, she had.
Other than pleasantries, the last week had been devastatingly void of Chloe-isms.
She didn’t join me when I sat down to watch Jeopardy after Ava was asleep. She didn’t bring her current craft projects inside, but rather kept them all in the pool house — away from me. At dinner, she talked to Ava or Chef Patel.
She very carefully avoided chatting with me, unless it was a group conversation.
I knew she still woke up in the middle of the night, but she no longer graced me with her presence in the kitchen or by the pool. She stayed in the pool house, reading a book on the couch or making her own late-night snack before ambling back to bed.
This was the boundary I told her I needed.
It was the boundary I knew I needed.
And yet…
Frustration curdled deep in my belly as I put Ava to bed the following Friday night, her head on my shoulder as I read Broken Crayons Still Color. She clutched her favorite plush fish to her chest, absentmindedly playing with the fins with her eyes glued to the pages as I turned them.
“Daddy?” she asked when I closed the book.
“Mm?”
“Did Mommy like to read?”
The question knocked the breath out of me.
After the event at school, I’d taken Chloe’s advice and told Ava how her mother was the one who loved donuts — not me. My daughter had lit up at the tiny tidbit of information, asking what flavors were Jenny’s favorite and whether she had a favorite donut store. That conversation had led to us going to Krispy Kreme bright and early on a Sunday morning and getting all Jenny’s favorites for Ava to try — starting with the lemon-filled one.