Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
An alarm sounds on her phone, and she swipes it silent. “I have to make a call,” she says.
“You have a job in a hotel and have a scheduled call?” I ask, only half-jokingly. Does she have a date?
“With my sister. So unless you wanna meet the fam, you better get going. Unless you’re going to fuck me. Then I might let you stay.”
I’m not going to fuck her. Not tonight, anyway.
I get to my feet, and as she moves away, I grab her hand and pull her toward me. I plant a kiss on her head. “Tomorrow. If I don’t happen to see you as I go through reception.”
“I’ll be looking for you.”
I hope she will be.
FOURTEEN
Efa
Obviously I can’t meet him at the hotel, even though I’m only a block away, so I’ve agreed to meet him at the Madison Square Park fountain. I’m wearing sunglasses despite the overcast skies, and I’m reading an old copy of The New York Times that I found behind reception. I’m like something out of a bad spy movie, just waiting for him to find me.
A particularly dark cloud passes overhead and I shiver.
“Efa,” Bennett says and pulls my newspaper from my hands. “What are you doing?”
I grin up at him. He looks so good. I’ve never seen him in anything but office attire, and I one hundred percent appreciate it. But today? It’s hard not to look at him the way he’s dressed. His outfit is simple: Levi’s and a white t-shirt. Wayfarers and a Yankees cap. He’s like an advert for Americana, and he wears it like a champ. His body is more on show like this. Easier to reach. Easier to touch.
I stand. “Hey. You look handsome.”
“Doing the crossword?” he asks, stuffing the paper into the bin.
“It was part of my disguise.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I’m disappointed there’s no wig.”
“Oh I’m sure I can find one for later.” Maybe whips and chains don’t do it for him, but roleplay does? “For now, it’s just a newspaper and lipstick.”
“The red looks good on you,” he says.
I wink at him. “I’m glad you think so.”
Our gazes lock, and for a second too long, I wonder why we bothered coming out to eat. Why didn’t I suggest takeout in bed?
I smooth my hands over his arms, lift up on tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving a great big red lipstick mark on his cheekbone.
“Thanks. That’s inconspicuous.”
I laugh on a roll of my eyes and grab his hand, leading him to our eatery, just a couple of steps away.
As we get to the entrance, I stretch out my hand in a voila movement.
“Shake Shack?” he asks, reading the sign.
“We have one of these in London. Burgers are delicious.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle and I lead the way, finding us a table at the edge of the outdoor seating area. “What can I get you?” I ask. “My treat.”
“This is where you want us to have our first date?” he asks, genuinely surprised.
“First of all, we can’t sit at Tribeca Grill, can we? You have pretty strict requirements. And second, this isn’t our first date, Romeo. We’ve had sex twice. We’ve hung out. We’ve had conversations, shared things, pledged our honesty to each other. It’s not a conventional getting-to-know-you—not by British standards, anyway. I’m rolling with it because I figure you’re worth it.”
“Worth it?” he asks. There’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. I recognize it from when he thought I was stalking him by working in his hotel room. But he has nothing to be suspicious about. Not with me.
“Yeah,” I say. “In the spirit of full honestly, I like hanging out with you. In all ways.”
“All ways?”
“Naked ways and not-naked ways.”
He grins, even though I can tell he’s trying not to. “And at Shake Shack.”
“Right,” I say. “I’m going to order you the biggest burger I can find and then I’m going to order two for me. Back in a sec.”
I make my way to the counter and look over my shoulder. He’s staring at my arse and I love that for him—I wore my best jeans in anticipation of a moment like this. I’m taking it as a win.
I get our food and drinks and bring the piled-high tray back to the table.
“And when do your friends arrive?” he asks.
“Oh no, sir, most of this food is for me. I’ve skipped meals all day because I knew we were coming here.”
“It’s noon. How many meals could you possibly have skipped?”
“Three, duh.” I’m grinning at him and our eyes lock. Even though his mouth is only slightly tilted upwards, the sparkle in those eyes tells me he’s happy. And I’m happy he’s happy.
We unpack our burgers and swap condiments and napkins and finally dig into the food.
He swallows and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “This is really good,” he says.