Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’d love to,” Dean said.
I tried kicking him under the table, but the man just gave my knee a placating little pat, and I froze like a deer in the headlights. What part of no touching did he not understand?
I knew I should just yank his hand away, but his touch was making me warm all over. The worst part was I think he knew, too. And my lady parts? I never knew they could sing opera.
With a very annoyed glare at nobody in particular, I picked up my water and sipped, forcing a smile while Dean dove into the story of how we met.
“It was crazy, actually,” he said. “We were partying at this… It was old, right?” he asked.
I stared back at him, then realized he was making sure he didn’t contradict something I’d already told Lizzie. I nodded quickly. I hadn’t gone into detail about that, but I was glad he was at least being mindful not to make the lines of our lies cross.
“Yeah, so it was old,” he continued. “Like historically old. We went upstairs to find a spare bed for the massage. I closed the door, locked it–because people would think they were walking in on something weird if they came in–and got to work. We wrapped up the session and I was packing up my kit when–”
“I thought you didn’t bring your kit everywhere?” Lizzie asked.
“Oh, I don’t. But one of my friends from massage school was at the party. We have this kind of competitive, ongoing thing. You know, he dares me to massage the shit out of him and I dare him back. It’s a guy thing, you wouldn’t understand. Totally hetero, too, not that it matters.”
If Lizzie’s eyebrows went any higher, they would’ve been behind her hair.
I was trying not to laugh, even though I was horrified at how crazy his story was getting. Was she really going to buy this? But then again, Dean had an oddly convincing way about him, even when he was spinning something so outlandish before our eyes.
“So, I packed up my kit,” he said, and now his hands were getting involved. He was pantomiming lifting stones or something heavy and putting them into a bag and zipping it. “And I went to open the door for us, but, shocker. It was locked. I mean, yes, I was the one who locked it. But now it was locked from the inside. The latch wouldn’t turn and that door was a big ass, old door. Historic. Probably a hundred pounds. There was no way I could kick it down.”
I realized the Pollards had tuned back into the conversation, probably because Dean had a theatrical way of telling his story. I even found myself getting more and more interested. How did we get out? I wanted to ask.
“We were stuck,” Dean said. “And the part my little sugar kitten doesn’t know is I spotted the key right then. It was on the dresser, but we’d been talking during the session and I wanted to finish our conversation. I figured it wouldn’t hurt anybody if that key stayed where it was for a few more minutes.”
“You dog!” I said, slapping his arm. I was partly hitting him for calling me his “little sugar kitten” and partly because I needed to act like this was all true.
He grinned. “Love makes us do crazy things. You know how it is, Jonas.”
Jonas nodded wisely, then gave Lizzie a kiss on the temple before leaning back to enjoy the story.
“So we got to talking. A few minutes passed, and before we knew it, hours had gone by. The party was long over and as it happened, the hosts weren’t even staying at the house that night. So when I miraculously noticed the key past midnight, we came out to find an empty house all to ourselves. We stayed up til sunrise watching movies together on the couch. Ever since then, it has pretty much been nonstop.” He looked over at me and there was a genuine glint of affection in his eyes. “I just can’t stop thinking about my little Sugar Bottom.”
I was going to kill him if he kept coming up with ridiculous pet names for me. “And I can’t stop thinking about my Daddypums.” I clapped a hand to my mouth. Daddypums? What the hell kind of pet name was Daddypums? I’d started that sentence with the intention of making up some kind of embarrassing nickname for him by the time I finished speaking. The nonsense word just kind of came out, and even Alec Pollard looked like he was trying to decide between laughing and gaping at us in horror.
I lifted the side of my hand to my mouth, covering a mortified smile. Dean was grinning openly and that damn hand of his was just making itself at home on my bare knee. I didn’t know if he had it there to mess with me, or to make us look more lovey dovey in front of our guests, but I was tired of how irrationally turned-on it was making me. I reached down to grab it and for some reason, expected him to resist. So when I snatched at his wrist I ended up grabbing so hard I pushed his hand straight up my knee, past the hem of my dress, right up my inner thigh, until the side of his forefinger collided with the little pink thong he’d picked out for me.