Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Anyway…” Brenna trails off. She takes a hasty sip of her coffee.
“Why’d you bring me here, Jensen? I’ve got class soon, too.”
“Because, like I said, the first time he paid any positive attention to me was when I told him I knew you.”
I grin in delight. “Dropped my name, eh?”
“Shut up. It made me sick doing it.”
Laughter spills out. This chick is really something. I’m so used to girls throwing themselves at me that it’s almost refreshing when one does the opposite.
“I did more than drop a name,” she confesses.
My forehead wrinkles. “Okay. What’d you tell him?”
She mumbles something under her breath.
I lean forward. “What’s that?”
“I told him you were my boyfriend,” she grinds out. Her jaw is so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t snap in two.
I stare at her for a second. When I realize she’s dead serious, I’m hit with another wave of laughter. “You fucking didn’t.”
“I did. And you promised not to gloat.”
“Sorry. Promise broken.” I can’t stop chuckling. “This is too fucking good. That was so much more than a name drop. It was like…like Human Centipede level of kiss-ass.” I wipe tears from the corner of my eye.
Brenna glares daggers at me. “First of all, gross. And second, I’m sorry, but unlike you I actually need to get a job when I graduate. I don’t have the luxury of a multimillion-dollar contract with a professional hockey franchise. Journalism is my dream, so if kissing that jerk’s ass is what I need to do to get this internship, then I will.”
I force myself to stop laughing. It’s difficult. “Okay, so you told him I’m your boyfriend.” Oh man, I love this. I love it hard. I can practically picture the expression on her face when she told him. The agony. “That doesn’t explain why we’re sitting here right now.”
“Needless to say, he came in his pants at the idea of having easy access to you.” She sighs. “He’s hosting a dinner party on Friday and he wants us to go.”
“Us?” I’m grinning so hard. “We’re an us now?”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing I want, but I told him we’d be there. And now, as humiliating as it is, I’m asking you to do me a solid and go with me.” She looks and sounds like she’d rather roll around in a dark pit full of razor blades.
I grin even harder. I think my face might break.
“Don’t do this to me,” she says miserably. “I’m aware of how ridiculous this is, but I need your help. You already pretended to be my boyfriend once, remember? You had no problem putting your hands all over me at the concert, but I guess that was okay because it was your idea to put on the charade?”
She has a point.
“Well, I need you to do it again, okay?” There’s a splash of bitterness in her tone. “It’s one night—I’ll even pay you if you want.”
“Hey, I’m no gigolo.”
“Fine, then do it for free. Be a good Samaritan.”
I ponder for a moment. “Nah.”
“Come on, Connelly.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brenna so flustered. “Don’t make me beg.”
A bolt of lust streaks straight to my groin. “That sounds so fucking appealing.”
Her mouth tightens. “It’s not happening.”
“Mmmm, you on your knees…begging…” My cock twitches.
It’s official. I’m hot for this girl. I’ve slept with my share of women, but I can’t remember the last time I lusted this hard over someone. I can feel my eyes glazing over as I envision the scene I just described. Brenna on her knees, unzipping my pants. Gripping my cock. Peering up at me with big eyes. Pleading for it.
“I’m not begging,” she says firmly. “I’m asking. If you’re saying no, then fine, I’ll get up and leave.”
I snap myself out of my lust trance. “I’m not saying no.”
“Great. Then come with me on Friday.”
I chuckle. “Oh, I’m not saying yes, either.”
If looks could kill, I’d be on the floor surrounded by a chalk outline right about now. “Then what are you saying?” she demands.
“I’m saying—quid pro quo. I don’t know if you learned this in school, but nothing comes for free.” I wink. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”
“I am not scratching any part of your body.”
“All I mean is, if I help you out, I want something in return.”
“Like what?” She starts fidgeting with the end of her braid, clearly unhappy.
I’d kind of like for her to undo the braid altogether. I want to see her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Actually, nah. I want to see it fanning over my bare chest as she crawls her way down my body and—
“Like what?” she repeats when I take too long to reply.
Once again, I force myself to concentrate. “So, you want a date on Friday night—”
“A fake date.”
“A fake date,” I amend. “Well, in return, I want a real one.”