Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
That’s a good start. I stare at the ceiling, noodling on the next bit when I hear a thud.
Then a loud psst.
Then the buzzing of my phone.
I squeak when Milo’s name flashes on my screen. I open the text instantly.
* * *
Milo: Look on your balcony, sunshine.
* * *
Gasping, I jump up from the table, rush to the deck, and find the paper airplane in the corner. But paper airplanes don’t fly solo. They need captains.
I peer over the balcony, and I can’t stop the grin from spreading when I spot the pilot. There he is, waving and looking hopeful as he holds a . . . panini?
“Did you open the airplane?” Milo calls up.
“Not yet,” I say, then bend to grab it. As I stand, I unfold it with excited fingers, then read his note.
I don’t want to call it good. I want to call you my girlfriend. But I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I left your fantasy unfulfilled. I believe you wanted a panini. Shame on me for never making you one. I did tonight, and I have so much to tell you, if you’ll have me, my Naughty, Amazing, Wonderful Juliet.
My heart does the rhumba as I gaze down at the man professing his love from the street. “I will definitely have you and the sandwich,” I shout as joy fills my entire body.
He smiles and it suits him so well, that beautiful, happy gaze. “I’m on my way, but first I need to tell you something,” he says, cupping his mouth. “I’m falling in love with you, Veronica Valentine.”
I laugh, and I smile, and I run to the door to unlock it. A few seconds later, he’s up the stairs and scooping me into his arms.
When he kisses me, my toes curl, and my heart sings.
Milo breaks the kiss, then says, “Correction: I am in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you too,” I say, then I tug him into my home, and shut the door.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to have more than sex and sandwiches. It’ll be sex and sandwiches and love.
But first, I want the balcony fantasy to come true in every single way.
32
A Dog’s Life
Milo
* * *
The problem with balcony fantasies is this—people walk by on the street below.
Exhibitionism is totally cool, but it’s not my thing, nor is it Veronica’s.
But if there are life hacks for making wine ice cubes, then there are life hacks for balcony banging.
It’s called—wait for it—a chair. I snag one from the kitchen table, haul it to the balcony, and pull her into my lap. That’ll obscure us from the street. I unzip my shorts while she yanks off her panties. After I slide on a condom, she sinks onto me.
I sizzle. She feels so good.
Then, I feel electric when she gasps and leans her head back.
“Yes, I knew it,” she whispers. “I already love balcony sex with Mister Sexy Pants.”
“You are easy to please.” I laugh, then lean in to kiss the hollow of her throat. Her orange blossom scent makes me dizzy, and the heat of her makes me high.
She ropes her arms around my neck, finding a rhythm as she rides me.
I can’t believe I nearly lost her. Threading my fingers through her hair, I tug her face close to mine. “Don’t want to give you up,” I tell her.
“Then don’t,” she counters as she rises up then sinks back down. My legs shake with lust. My head swims with happiness.
We rock and thrust under the fading sun as New York rolls on by beyond the balcony.
Here, above the city, we come back together.
After, she eats the grilled cheese and avocado panini I made for her, moaning in a foodgasm at the kitchen table. “Tell me about the ride,” she says in between bites.
“It was great aside from the part where I was completely miserable and ornery, thinking I lost you. I spent the first day in the saddle contemplating what a dumbass I was to let you go and what a ’fraidy cat I was to allow my ex to control my dating life,” I say.
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” she teases, then dabs at the corner of her mouth with a gingham napkin.
“Yes, it was sweet being an ogre. My friends knocked some sense into me, and I realized I needed to start a list of my own.”
Her eyebrows rise in intrigue. “Keep going. I love lists.”
I tap my temple. “I keep it up here, but it’s basically a list of things you like and how I can give them to you in and out of bed,” I say, gesturing to the vanishing sandwich. “Like that. That’s the first thing.”
“I very much approve,” she says. “What else is on it?”
I park my chin in my hand. “Take you out on a proper date tomorrow night. And this weekend too. Maybe even get you cake.”