Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I cross my arms in front of me, the authority on the subject. “Sex pie is coconut cream pie you use to rub on your girlfriend’s naked body so you can lick it off. It’s like pre-dessert.”
“Oh my God.”
“So…you rubbed my pie all over each other, and now I can’t have dessert?”
I shrug. “I can always send it home with you. Then you can have sex pie later.”
“No one is having sex pie!” Posey is as red as I’ve ever seen her.
Molly pulls a face. “I mean, how much of it is ruined? I could do pie later.” She winks at Eli.
The whole thing is crazy to me; being friends with my agent and having him in my girlfriend’s house—considering I’d gotten fucked over by my first one and never thought I’d trust one again to look out for my best interests.
Now he’s in Posey’s home—er, Molly’s house, but still—eating food at her table; food that she and I put in serving bowls together once it arrived via Delivery Dash, the steak house in town.
The other thing that’s crazy?
Letting him see my natural habitat; let him hear me discussing sex and relationships, two things that have nothing to do with my career.
I'm paying Eli Cohen bucko dinero (a shit ton of money) to look after me, so it's bizarro having his girlfriend tell me she wants our leftover sex pie.
What if I was saving it for later?
“On second thought,” Molly is saying, “maybe we could have Eli eat the pie—after all, he’s the one who sent over the nondisclosure agreement.”
“Hey, whose side are you on?” He gawks at his girlfriend.
Molly rolls her eyes at her high-powered boyfriend, no fucks to give.
“Hers.”
I knew I liked Molly.
Doesn’t put up with shit from anyone—same as me. It’s good to see Posey has a friend who will stick up for her. One thing’s for certain: I wouldn’t want to piss off Molly Summervale.
“So this is a thing now?” Eli plucks a cold piece of steak off the platter in the center of the table, picking it apart with his hands now that he gets no dessert.
“Is what a thing?”
His hand goes between Posey and me, back and forth, back and forth as if we were a puzzle he has to figure out. Clearly if he’s asking, he’s not great at puzzles, but whatever.
“The two of you. You’re a thing?”
I’m not sure I’d call us a thing, but we’re working toward being a thing?
Posey looks at me to answer, so I nod. “Yeah. This is a thing.”
“What kind of a thing?” Eli prods for more information. I get it, it’s his job to know what I’m doing and who I’m doing but come on—at the dinner table?
Still. I don’t want to make things worse with Posey by telling him to piss off. Might hurt her feelings and that’s the last thing I want now that we’re in a good place.
Besides, she’s my friend.
Might even be my best friend, which is fucking weird since I’ve never had a female friend before. Not even close. Certainly not one I’ve dated; it never occurred to me to be friends with a girlfriend—my pops wasn’t exactly a shining example of how to treat a woman.
Everyone at the table has their eyes on me.
“Well,” I start slowly. “Like I said when I crashed her night out with the gals, I missed her while I was in Texas. Missed her a whole lot. We just met, you know, but sometimes I think…” Let’s see, how do I put this? “You just know about someone.”
Just know about someone...dot dot dot, fill in the blank.
Molly’s eyes shoot up into her hairline.
I’m not sure how to explain it, so I don’t. That’s between me and Posey. The last thing I wanna do is jinx anything by saying it out loud, and it’s too soon to really commit to how I feel—or commit to how she might be feeling, one way or another.
So I stand from the table and go to the kitchen, retrieving the pie left out on the counter. It’s a mess—a flippin’ mess, but I take it to the dining room and plop it down on the table in front of my agent, daring him to cut himself a slice, knowing all along we’ve been calling it a sex pie.
This ought to shut him up and stop him from meddling where I don’t want his nose.
I sit back down in my chair, take my steak knife, and cut into the pie, holding the slice up and offering it to him.
He shakes his head.
“No?” I set it on mine.
Everyone watches when I dig my fork in, lift it to my mouth, and take a bite.
“Dang, Posey, this is fantastic.” I pause. “Not as good as it was before, but…”
Her face gets bright red. “Um. Thank you.”