Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
That's the most frat boy fucking reasoning I've thought.
"I would have to hope that your integrity is enough that you wouldn't do that."
"Are you horny right now?" I ask, needing to know just where both of us are.
He swallows again before speaking. "It's not as bad as Thursday evening when you were wet in the hot tub."
"Who's to say I'm not wet right now?"
My cheeks heat because shit, I just can't seem to turn it off around this guy.
"You're a deviant," he says with humor.
"You didn't answer my question," I prod, watching his mouth as his tongue sneaks out, the tip tracing the outer corner of his mouth.
Instead of using words, he slides his chair out from under his desk, rotating in my direction. Evidence of just how he feels is right there, pressing against the denim of his jeans, and I swear I could trace the outline of his cock head because it's so prominent.
"Does it bother you that I've been with your brother?"
"I hate that he manipulated you into sleeping with him," he answers without hesitation.
I huff a laugh. "He didn't. I promise. I was a more than willing participant."
There's no sense in placing blame where it doesn't belong.
"I'm not going to insult you by saying he only slept with you to get to me because you're stunningly beautiful, but you're not Henry's type."
I don't bother asking him what his brother's type is because I'm not concerned about that.
"He did it because I'm your type."
The thought that his brother has been playing matchmaker thrills me probably more than it should.
"I'm a gift," I whisper.
He pulls in a deep breath before speaking again. "Henry has never been generous for the sake of making others happy. What he gives, he always takes away."
"I feel like there's a story behind that."
"There is," he says but doesn't expand.
"I'd never go back to your brother," I assure him.
His smile grows weaker, making me wonder if my making a choice between the two is not what he’s worried about. The concept that Henry could take me away even if it wasn't my choice makes a wave of goosebumps roll down my arms, and I immediately work my hands up and down to ease them.
"How do we... move forward?"
"I don't want you to think we even have to do that. If it's not something you want, then—"
"I'm not saying it isn't," I interrupt. "I just know I don't want to walk away."
"Because you're wet and horny?" he challenges. "The long game of fucking me just for the sake of fucking me doesn't alter the fact that you're doing it because that's all you want."
"First, could you not say fucking? It messes with my brain chemistry. Second, I feel like if I tell you now after these conversations about it, that I want to see where it goes and that it could be more it won't sound genuine."
"If I can't trust your words, then we're setting ourselves up for failure."
"And if I don't know exactly how I feel enough to put it into words?"
He spends a few breaths considering this before responding. "Maybe just be honest with yourself before you act on anything."
"What does the next step even look like?"
His smile is slow, and I swear the man is trying to seduce me right now. Maybe that's his game. Maybe he wants me begging, which I would've done Thursday night had he stuck around long enough.
"We'd spend time together, get to know each other better. See if it's something we'd want to pursue."
"You mean pursue a relationship?"
"Right. What else is there?"
I roll my lips between my teeth and look away. His laughter swarms around me.
"We already know we're going to be sexually compatible, Morgan."
I look back at him. "How do we know that?"
His eyes sweep down my body, spending a little extra time on my chest before dropping to my legs.
"Jesus," I mutter, fighting the urge to shift in my seat.
"Exactly," he says, not bothering to resist reaching down and adjusting himself.
"Wh-what about kissing?" I manage. "Do you kiss on the first date?"
His gaze drifts to my lips, and I swear I can feel the pressure of his mouth there already.
"I like kissing."
I squeeze my legs together, and of course, it draws his attention there. I don't know if I'm just wound tight or if he means kissing down there, too.
"Both," he whispers as if he can read my mind. "But one has to wait."
"I need to brush my teeth anyway," I tease.
He laughs again, shaking his head, and I swear it hits me just then. I really like this guy.
Is this what I've been missing out on by not really getting to know other men from my past?
"I don't think I've ever sat down and had such an intellectual conversation about this stuff before."
"I don't think a lot of people have, but how else do you know the other's intentions? If you don't talk, you'll never know where the other person's head is at. I hate miscommunication when just simply talking to someone solves a lot of problems," he says.