Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Our drinks arrive and we both take a sip, Sawyer inquiring if the drink is to my liking. It is. He is. I like spending time with him. He’s easy to be with—it’s easy to be myself with him. He’s attentive, and I’m interested in everything he has to say. The chemistry, this pull I feel towards him, I can’t put into words. It’s almost too good to be true. And that therein is my fear. What if we’re sexually incompatible? It happens.
I take another sip of my drink and contemplate downing it in one gulp. But no. That’d get me tipsy and I’m pretty sure Sawyer will not put out if I’m anything close to drunk. I tap my finger against the side of the glass and estimate that it’s going to take at least twenty minutes for us to finish these drinks. Then a worse thought occurs to me. What if he orders another round and we’re stuck in here for an hour or longer? I wrinkle my nose and set the glass down on the table, then lean in closer to Sawyer, my fingers stroking the arm of the chair, and drop my voice.
“It’s so loud in here. Maybe we should go someplace quieter,” I suggest. But I realize too late, as it’s coming out of my mouth, that it’s not too loud in here. In fact, I’d describe the sound level as distinctly subdued. Damn it, I can’t take it back, I already said it. Maybe he hasn’t noticed how quiet it is, so I add, “Don’t you think?” in a whisper.
He has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. I’m watching him—he’s physically rolled his lip inward to restrain himself.
“Everly?” He leans in closer, his voice soft, seductive.
“Yes?”
“Did you want to be done talking now?”
I nod, relieved. “Yes.” I sit up a little straighter, ready to grab my bag and hoof it out of here. He relaxes, sitting back in his chair. I stifle a groan.
“You’re awfully anxious to get in my pants, Boots.”
I slump back into the very comfortable chair and cross my arms, shrugging. “You might be terrible in bed,” I admit.
He coughs and that turns into a laugh that he covers with his fist. “Might I?”
I nod, my mood serious. “You might.”
“Your seduction techniques are something, Everly.”
Oh, my God. He’s not denying it. Maybe he has an erectile dysfunction. He’s a premature ejaculator. Or he’s got a micropenis. Or he’s a eunuch. That’d be just my luck, wouldn’t it? Wait, I could feel his erection this afternoon in his office. So scratch those last two worries. Still, so many possibilities. I’ve read articles.
“Do you take any medication?” I blurt out.
He tilts his head and looks at me, “No,” he says, then shakes it slowly. “Do you?”
“Just the pill. But you’re still wearing a condom. I’m not catching any babies from you.” I shudder.
“Assuming I’m able to perform.”
“Yes! Exactly!” Finally we’re on the same page.
“Yet again, I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“I’m an enigma, Sawyer,” I say, throwing up my hands, palms up.
He pulls his wallet out and drops cash on the table, then stands, holding his hand out to assist me from my chair.
“Are we going back to your place that is not a hotel room now?”
“We are,” he says and continues holding my hand as we walk to the residential tower at the Ritz.
He lets go when he holds the elevator door for me, and then he sticks his hands in his pockets, leaning against the side of the elevator, staring at me.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Just deciding what I’m going to do with you first.”
“Do with me?” I’m nervous now. I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
He nods, then runs a hand across his jaw, thinking. “Breeding role-play okay?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re cool with video?”
“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “But I’m open to trying whatever your thing is. Unless it’s anal. I’m saving anal for marriage.”
“Saving anal for marriage,” he repeats back to me. “Is that an actual thing?” He’s incredulous.
“It’s a thing.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“Well, I think it’s a thing and it’s my ass.”
“Fair.” He nods. “Just out of curiosity, how do you see that playing out? Wedding night anal? Honeymoon anal? Or are you talking first anniversary anal?”
I twist my lips while I think. “Wedding night anal doesn’t seem right, does it?” I scrunch my nose and tap my lip while I give this genuine reflection. “Post-honeymoon, pre-first anniversary seems like the anal sweet spot.”
“Good to know. I’ll make a note of it.”
“You do that.”
The elevator stops and we exit. There are two doors on this floor and I follow Sawyer as he unlocks one of them, then pauses on the threshold.