Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I falter. The swirl of emotion on his face is hard to process. “I…” The words escape me again. “I need a hot shower,” is what I end up saying, and then I leave the room before he can object.
A few minutes later, I’m under the shower spray, letting the warm water slide over my face and ease the ache in my swollen eyes. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I’ve always associated tears with weakness, vulnerability. And I haven’t felt vulnerable since I was a child.
It bothers me that I’m crying over the loss of a stupid waitressing job. People lose their jobs all the time. It’s a trivial fact of life. It isn’t the end of the world.
Only it isn’t trivial to me. The job at the Olive paid my bills. My savings are nonexistent, and it isn’t likely I can find another job in time to pay the rest of my tuition. I’m already accruing late fees like crazy, since I didn’t pay the amount in full at the beginning of the year like most students. Without my job, how am I supposed to pay the college?
I shut off the water and step out of the shower. I wrap myself up in my robe, but I hesitate before leaving the bathroom. I wonder if Ben is still in the living room. Or is he waiting in the bedroom for me? Will he start needling me again about letting him help me?
God, I don’t want him to help me. But maybe I should let him. I mean, he kind of owes me, seeing as how he was partially involved in my getting fired. Why the hell did he go behind my back and mess around with my work schedule? How did he convince me to leave town for two days? Why can’t he just go away?
You don’t want him to go away.
I ignore the taunting voice in my head, telling myself that of course I want him to leave. Tonight proved that he’s the complication I knew he would be, a distraction I can’t afford. We have great sex, sure, but is it worth all the headaches? The reporters who surrounded us in the airport? Losing my job?
No, it isn’t worth it at all. I’ve worked too hard to have all my goals threatened by a movie star and his amazing penis.
I stride out in my robe, determined to tell Ben it’s over. That it’s time for him to face the press and stop using me as an excuse to hide out. Time to uncomplicate my life. But when I enter my room and find him sitting on the bed, the speech I’ve prepared dies on my lips.
He looks so damn upset that my chest squeezes. His broad shoulders are slumped over, his handsome features creased with worry. And when he looks up at me, the remorse pooling in his cobalt blue eyes is unmistakable.
He stands up and says, “I’m sorry.”
“Ben—”
“No, listen to me.” He steps closer and touches my chin. “I’m really sorry about the way I fucked everything up. I’m sorry about the paparazzi at the airport, and I’m so fucking sorry I tricked you into going to the Bahamas with me.”
Before I can speak, he kisses me, his lips softer and gentler than they’ve ever been. I try to focus, try to remind myself that it’s time we part ways, but the feel of his hot mouth on mine is too distracting. Considering I just got fired, the last thing I should want to do is have sex, but my body instantly responds to Ben.
“Let me make it up to you,” he whispers against my mouth.
I want to argue that the only way to make it up to me is to leave, to take his complications elsewhere and let me work everything out on my own. But my desire for him is too strong.
One last time, my needy body and my eager heart beg in unison.
I shouldn’t listen to either of those idiots, I know that. Falling into bed with Ben, even if it is just one last time, won’t make the situation any better. I still won’t have a job, the press will still be sniffing around me, Ben will still be asking me for things I’m not sure I can give. Sex isn’t going to change that.
But I can’t ignore my need for this man. And when his gorgeous eyes lock with mine and ask an unspoken question, I can’t say no.
I nod.
Without another word, Ben leads me toward the bed and peels the robe off my body. He grabs a condom, and then he lays me down on the patterned bedspread and kisses me again. He kisses me everywhere. My lips. My nipples. My stomach, my thighs, my clit. And while his tongue teases and explores every inch of me, all my anxiety dissolves and flees my body in the form of a soft whimper.