Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
I gasp and shoot up, pushing Pamela off my lap. I ignore her affronted yelp, jump off the bed like I’ve been burned, and pace into my bathroom, slamming the door behind me. “Shit,” I breathe, looking at myself in the mirror. My naked body is damp, my cock in a semi-erect state. What the actual bloody fuck? This has absolutely never happened. Never. I sit my arse on the toilet seat and rest my elbows on my knees, dropping my face into my hands. This is her fault. From the moment I walked out of that hotel, I’ve not been able to wipe the image from my brain of her fucking that bloke, and I’ve not been able to stop myself from wishing it was me. I can’t stop thinking of her with that man—what they’re doing, where they are. My cock’s gone into hiding. Shriveled. It seems to be holding a protest. Like it’s not got the pussy it wants, so it’s refusing to perform.
I groan, sliding my hands to the top of my head and fisting my hair. What’s happening to me? This is because I can’t have her. I’m obsessing about her because I know I can’t fucking screw her.
There’s a knock on the door, and I look up. “You okay, Ty?” Pamela asks through the wood. She must be wondering what the hell is going on. We both haven’t climaxed, and in the many times I’ve fucked her over the years, that has absolutely never happened. Ever.
“Yeah.” My voice sounds groggy and strained. “Feeling a bit peaky.” I’m not lying, either. My fucking head is refusing to let up on all things Lainey fucking Summer, and my stomach is rolling constantly as a result. “I’ll be fine.”
“Want me to take care of you?” There’s hope in her voice. I know she’d love nothing more—something beyond the occasional fuck. She knows the deal. And though she accepts it, I know she’s holding out for more. I can’t be any more upfront with her. I don’t want more. It’s not personal. I don’t want more from any woman.
“I’ll call you,” I say, my usual parting words telling her what she already knows. It takes way too much effort to rise from the toilet seat, my strung muscles pulling everywhere. I need a shower. And sleep.
I DIDN’T SLEEP. NOT EVEN close. I was in the pool by five o’clock, out by six o’clock, and in the office by seven. I didn’t even try the coffee machine this morning, just tossed it a filthy look as I stalked past. I’m blaming yesterday’s shitstorm entirely on that machine. Everything was swell until it soiled my suit and forced me to abandon my regular attire.
I land at my desk and start to power through my emails, set on tidying up my inbox and getting up to date before I spend the rest of the day finalizing the Pyra Lingerie pitch. I’ve fired a million emails off to a million people by the time Gina arrives.
She stands in my doorway with her hands on her hips. “Okay, Tyler. I’m quitting unless you tell me what’s going on with you.”
“You’ll never quit.” I laugh, holding out a stack of papers to her. “I’m too good to you.”
She approaches and claims them. “You look . . . off.”
I laugh some more. She has no fucking clue. I haven’t had an orgasm in the last two days. Two. Days. That’s gonna fuck a man over when he’s used to shooting his load twice a day. My body’s confused. It’s screaming, Get me off! Jizz is congealing, man. Get it out!
“I’m fine,” I grumble, clicking send on the email I’ve just tapped out before casting my eyes to Gina’s chest and getting an eyeful before she can point out my lack of admiring again.
“So,” Gina says casually. Purposely casually. My eyes drift up from her chest to her face. She’s trying to appear all casual, too, fingering the Post-It I slapped on the top of the papers I just gave her. “I had the pleasure of meeting Sal’s new assistant.” Her eyes meet mine, studying me.
I cough and crack my neck as I speedily—and guiltily—snap my attention back to my computer. “That’s nice.”
“Hmm.” I can feel her suspicious eyes on my profile, but I refuse to acknowledge them. I’m not feeding her interest. Besides, there’s nothing to feed. “I’ll get your coffee.”
“You do that.” The door closes behind her, and I glance up, my fingers pausing on the keys of my computer. My assistant never misses a trick. She has an eagle eye and a sharp brain. Nothing gets past her. I mustn’t give her any reason to believe there’s something untoward going on in my head. I don’t need reminding that I’m on dangerous ground.
At nine o’clock, Sal pokes his head around my door. “We’re waiting for you.”