Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he replies grimly. “For a week, and it’s been the hardest week of my life.”
“Your company’s going through a lot—”
“It has nothing to do with the company,” he says, putting on his sunglasses and cap again as if speaking about his company reminds him we’re in public. Anybody could snap a photo of us in the car together.
That wouldn’t be that bad, though, would it? A photo of us in a car would be easier to explain than the recording, the moaning, the heat. I try not to fixate on his words—him saying I’m just for him. No, not me. The moans, the sexual side. Not all of me. It’s not relationship talk, which is good, I remind myself. I don’t want it to be that.
“How is work?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Apparently, the tech guys and gals have patched the hole in the VR,” he says. “But I’m asking them to double- and triple- and quadruple-check. I can’t let anything like this happen again. I’d rather be broke.”
Passion infuses his voice. He cares a lot about his company but more about the people he may have hurt by his mistake. It weighs on him.
Reaching across, I lay my hand on his arm. “You didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say softly. “You didn’t want it to happen. You’re a good person, Lukas.”
He glances at me. Despite the sunglasses, I know he’s got a note of accusation in his eyes. It’s like I can see through the shield of the shades. He doesn’t have to say anything. He’s thinking, How can I be a good person after what we did? I turn away from him but keep my hand on his arm. I can’t stand to think of the pool, the bubbles, and the steaminess as a bad thing.
“Maybe your PI will come up with something,” I mutter after a pause.
“Unless he can delete every copy of that recording, I’m not sure what difference it’ll make. Even then, Ethan—Finn—could tell Kayla. If she asks me directly, I won’t be able to lie.”
“No,” I whisper. “I won’t either.”
“Which is why we should just tell—”
“Please,” I cut in, as my heart starts to hammer again. “I just need some time.”
He sighs but doesn’t follow up. He’d rather drive there right now and get this over with. Deep down—and honestly, not that deep—I know that would be the right thing to do, but just the idea of it makes my belly swirl.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I ask, which seems almost ridiculous, trying to speak of normal stuff after everything we’ve shared.
“More work,” he says gruffly.
“You sound… tired.”
He stops at a red light, allowing him to look at me. I see myself reflected in his shades, looking small and terrified. “I’ve been putting in long, long hours.”
“Because of the VR stuff?”
“Yeah… and Sebastian, but truthfully, I could delegate a lot more. I’m working so hard because it’s easier than the alternative: sitting around thinking about you, Maci, thinking about how empty I feel without you.”
I squeeze my legs together. The huskiness in his voice is enough to make my lips feel like they’re swelling, my clit aching, like we’re in the pool again. Bubbles of lust burst in my mind.
“Maybe you could use me as an excuse to take some time off,” I say, laughing like it’s a joke, but we both know I’m not joking.
“There’s literally nothing I want more,” he says passionately, “except for Kayla to be okay with you and me somehow.”
You and me, what? I almost ask. Making love? Being together long term? What exactly is this?
“We could go on a private date,” he says, “but it feels wrong. No, that’s a lie. It feels right. It feels like what we’re supposed to do, you and me, Maci, be together, but you know what I mean.”
“It is wrong,” I say, “but it feels right?”
“Exactly,” he replies.
Far too soon, he’s pulling up to my car. “How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“The PI,” he confesses. “I’m sorry, but it seemed urgent.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. Maybe it makes me completely crazy, but I like the idea of you keeping tabs on me.”
Parking the car, he reaches over, touching my leg. Dangerous, tempting shivers dance up my leg, screaming at me to give myself to him completely, to bring back the passion of the pool.
“Did you mean what you said about a date?” he says, sounding husky.
I grab a thread of fabric on my pants and twist it between my fingers. “Yeah,” I whisper, “but only because I don’t want you to work yourself to death.”
He smirks. I can imagine his eyes gleaming behind the shades. He leans forward as if he’s going to kiss me and then pulls away. Maybe it’s because of the vomit or that we’re in public. “It’s wrong,” he says. “We both know that.”