Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
This time I could tell her tone was teasing. “Really? I thought you wore the French maid outfit with thigh-highs and used a little feather duster.” Her expression shifted as a thought formed. “You could charge him more if you did.”
“Maybe I could.” I mimicked her joking voice. “You want to explain to my dad how I’m earning the extra cash?”
She looked at me like I was being an idiot. “You don’t have to tell him, you know.”
Keeping anything a secret from my parents right now was too risky, plus . . . “I’m his boss’s daughter. Noah would never go for it.”
Also, he’d already seen me naked. Why would he want to pay to see me scantily clad?
Sasha’s head tilted with agreement. “Right.” She took another sip of her Kool-Aid flavored wine. “So, what’s his deal? He’s not there, so I’m sure you’ve done some ‘investigating.’”
I mashed my lips, trying to squeeze away my guilt because I hadn’t been perfect. “I try not to snoop.”
Whatever expression I’d been making, it gave everything away. “Oh, bullshit,” she said. “Tell me.”
Would doing that be a second invasion of privacy? Noah had left one of the bedside table drawers open half an inch. Not enough for me to see inside, but it’d felt like an invitation for me to take a peek.
I’d tugged it open six more inches and found what I’d expected—a box of condoms, a bottle of lube. But there were other sexy things too, like a Fleshlight, a tiny vibrator . . . Silicone bands that were most likely cock rings. Plus, handcuffs and a blindfold.
Fuck me, I’d whispered to myself. Noah was hot enough already. He had to be kinky too? It was so unfair.
And judging by the contents of that drawer, he’d already found a partner.
I’d had no choice but to ball up my disappointment, put it in that drawer, and slam it shut with a definitive thud.
“Okay, I might have peeked a little bit,” I admitted, “but I didn’t find anything surprising.”
At least this time I was more convincing because Sasha frowned. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
God, she had no idea.
I was in Noah’s living room, in the middle of vacuuming the new rug he’d bought, when his doorbell rang. I slowed, unsure of what to do. Could I pretend I hadn’t heard it over the sound of the vacuum? It wasn’t my house, and I felt strange answering the door.
Since I had my back to the entryway, I couldn’t see who it was. It was a Tuesday, and in the middle of the afternoon, so it was probably some door-to-door salesperson.
I decided to keep trucking along. I needed to, because I had my camera going. I was filming coverage for either filler content, or something I could use behind a voiceover down the road.
The person at the front door was impatient though.
I waited less than thirty seconds before the doorbell chimed again, and it somehow sounded more urgent this time. They must have been able to see me through the window because when I didn’t react, there was the sharp sound of knuckles rapping against the glass.
Shit. What if it was an emergency?
I snapped the vacuum into its upright position, flipped it off, and turned to face the entryway.
The shadowy figure I could see through the side window was slender, and as I marched closer, the woman became clearer. She was older, pretty.
Oh, shit. Was this Noah’s mother?
I swallowed thickly and straightened my posture. I’d always felt so awkward meeting the parents of the guy I was with.
Girl, please. You’re not with him, remember?
NINE
Charlotte
After I’d paused my camera, I unlatched Noah’s front door and pulled it open just enough to block the woman’s entry to the house. She didn’t look like she was related to him, or like she was trying to sell something, either. She stood on the porch holding a paper plate loaded with cookies that was wrapped in pink cling film.
Was she a neighbor?
It was a little late to be welcoming him to neighborhood—he’d moved in more than two months ago.
I pressed out a polite smile. “May I help you?”
It was abundantly clear I wasn’t who she was expecting, and her face twisted into a frown. “Yes, hello.” She tried to see around me and into the house. “Is Noah here?”
“No, sorry. He’s not.”
“Oh.” This was not the answer she wanted to hear, and her gaze fell to the cookies she was holding, like she wasn’t sure what to do now.
“Did you want me to give those to him?” I offered.
She clutched the plate tighter, like she worried I was going to wrench it from her hands, and she tried to peer around me once again. “Is there a package in there for me?”
Um, what?
“This is my house,” she explained. “I mean, it was, and—silly me, I forgot to update my shipping address.” Her smile was off, and her expression was sort of calculating, like maybe she hadn’t forgotten. “I ordered a mattress last week. You know, one of those ones that comes in a box? Anyway, I didn’t realize my mistake until I saw the delivery picture and it was this front porch.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “So, is it in there?”