Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“If I told you I don’t want to sleep with you, would you still want to see me?”
Closing my eyes briefly, I opened them and said, “I would respect that.”
“I’ve been hurt too many times in my life. I’ve vowed not to give myself to anyone that way again unless I was sure of their intentions. So, if you want to be with me, then there’s no sex. You want to talk to me? Fine. You want to get to know me? Fine. But it stops there. Is that what you really want?”
“I want it all, but I’ll take what I can get…for now.”
“So, when is this gonna happen?”
“Tonight. I’ll pick you up, and I’ll take you on a real date that doesn’t involve someone’s decomposing body in the next room.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“I’ll go along with the no-sex thing, but mark my words. When the time comes, I’m not gonna be the one begging for it.”
***
FOR THE REST OF THAT DAY, the prospect of seeing her later consumed me. To pass the excruciating wait, I decided to write to Ask Ida.
Dear Ida:
I’m seeing a woman who has made it clear that she doesn’t want to have sex with me. The thing is, she doesn’t know what she’s going to be missing. I’m thinking there must be something I could do to change her mind? –Stuck-Up Suit, Manhattan
About an hour later, a response showed up in my inbox.
Dear Stuck-Up Suit:
I get the sense that perhaps you just assume that all women should want to open their legs to you. I am guessing there is a reason that this woman feels that having sex with you would be detrimental to her well-being. Maybe try getting to know her for a while, give her a reason to trust you. Prove that you are invested. In the meantime, YOU should invest in a nice cold shower. Sounds like you’re going to need it.
CHAPTER 7
SORAYA
SORAYA: WHERE ARE WE GOING?
I’d left work an hour early to get ready. More than half the clothes I owned were in a heaping pile on my bed. Normally, whatever mood struck dictated my outfit. I wasn’t finicky. To me, style was an expression of your own individual personality, not following the latest trends from the runway or from one of the Kardashians. So it was freaking-me-the-fuck-out that I was on my tenth outfit.
Graham: To a restaurant, unfortunately. Unless you’ve changed your mind. I’m more than accommodating if you’d prefer I feast on you at my place.
If it were anyone else, all of the little pervy comments would piss me off. But for some reason¸ Graham’s made me smile. My answer to his invitation to screw was always to screw with him.
Soraya: Actually, maybe I have changed my mind.
Graham: Give me your address. I’m still at the office, but can be there in ten minutes, wherever the hell you live.
I chuckled at his desperation. As much as I thought he was full of himself, there was something very endearing about the honesty he displayed wanting to be with me. Normally, to a guy like him, showing desperation was a sign of weakness. It almost made me feel bad about toying with him. Almost.
Soraya: I meant about us having dinner tonight. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.
Graham: Bullshit. If you don’t show up, expect a knock on your door.
Soraya: You don’t even know where I live.
Graham: I’m a very resourceful man. Try me.
Soraya: Fine. I’ll be there. But you only gave me an address. Where are we going? I need to know what to wear.
Graham: Wear whatever you’re wearing right now.
I looked down.
Soraya: A hot pink lace bra and G-string? Where are you taking me, a strip club?
It was a solid five minutes before he responded.
Graham: Don’t tell me shit like that.
Soraya: Not a fan of hot pink?
Graham: Oh, but I am. The shade will look lovely as a handprint on your ass if you don’t stop messing with me.
Spanking wasn’t something I was ever into. Wasn’t being the key word. Yet the thought of him stinging my ass had my body humming. I was growing aroused from a text. Jesus. This man was dangerous. Needing a break, I tossed the phone on my bed and dug back into my closet. A little black dress shoved in the back caught my eye. I’d bought it for a funeral. I cracked myself up thinking I should have worn it the other night for my date with Aspen. When I slipped it from the hanger, my phone was flashing a new incoming text message had arrived.
Graham: You’ve stopped responding. I’m going to take that to mean you’re busy fantasizing about my hand swatting that fine ass.
He had an uncanny ability to turn a simple question into something dirty.
Soraya: I’m busy trying to figure out what to wear. Which brings me back to the original question I texted, where are we going?