Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“No,” I laughed. “He left a note. He had to run into the office, but he said to make myself at home.”
“Ohhh,” he said, intrigue laced in his tone. “Doesn’t he have one of those ridiculously expensive and equally gorgeous penthouses in lower Manhattan?”
“That he does.”
“That’s a score, babe. I’d go take a dip in his tub Pretty Woman style and never look back.”
“You have the best ideas,” I said. “I’m sorry for not texting back and worrying you.”
“Great sex is always an acceptable excuse. I’m proud of you, babe. You needed this.”
I gaped at my phone. “Who says I needed it?”
“Your best friend, that’s who,” he chided me. “You never do anything for yourself. And this entire situation, however unorthodox it is, has really worked out for you. You deserve it and you should sure as hell enjoy it.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually did something for myself beyond treating myself to a night with Jesse or the girls or taking Brecken out to a play. Was that why a flower of apprehension bloomed in my chest? The fact that I wasn’t used to this situation or was it because Crossland had turned out to be the exact opposite of what I’d expected when I entered into this deal?
A friend.
That’s what we’d established last night. Over the last month, during our ruse, we’d become friends.
I shook my head.
“Don’t overthink this, Aspen,” Jesse said like he could read the silence between us.
“I’m trying not to,” I said. “But you know me. Anytime anything good happens…” Icy dread laced through me.
“You worry your past will show up to steal it,” he finished for me. “I know. I remember it took you years to realize I wasn’t going anywhere. No matter what.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, babe.”
“How was dancing at Lux?” I asked, wanting to know about his night too. “Meet anyone fun?”
“It was a blast,” he said. “Drinks were on point, and I might’ve, maybe met someone.”
“Oh?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“He seemed a little too good to be true, but I gave him my number.”
“Whoa, that’s huge! You rarely give that out.”
“It was the cocktails,” he groaned. “But Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-True already texted asking for a brunch date.”
“Holy shit, he sounds amazing.” I grinned, genuinely happy for my friend. “Wait, how was he dressed?” Good taste in clothes were a huge plus for Jesse—
“Like I drew him,” he answered, and I squealed. “Right?” he continued. “If anything, he’ll be good for inspiration for my next collection.”
“That’s awesome,” I said. “So glad you went out last night.”
“Me too,” he said. “Now, back to you,” he continued. “Don’t question what’s happening between the two of you. Just enjoy it. It’s not like you’re in love with the guy, so there isn’t a risk for heartbreak.”
“Right,” I said, my stomach sinking for a reason I couldn’t place.
“Good. Now go explore the penthouse and report back anything fascinating.”
I chuckled. “Will do.”
“Love,” he said.
“Love,” I said before we both hung up.
I sat on the bed for a few moments, contemplating gathering my things and leaving. I’d never stayed long at any of my previous boyfriends’ houses before, but this wasn’t anything like those had been either.
Fuck it. Jesse was right, I should just enjoy myself. I was still doing my job—posing as Crossland’s girlfriend, and a girlfriend would certainly stay and take a long, hot bath, especially when Cross insisted I make myself at home himself.
With that decided, I shoved all other concerns away and let the sheet fall off my body, padding barefoot to the bathroom connected to his bedroom.
“Holy shit,” I said out loud as I took in the spacious, spa-like bathroom. It was huge with dark marble floors, a massive shower, and a giant square stone tub that was sat atop the floor.
I gave a giddy little squeal and started to fill the tub, exploring his cabinets until I found some fancy-looking bubbles and salts, pouring them in the steaming water and dimming the lights to a low golden hue. I threw my hair back in a messy bun, then sat my phone near the tub, playing music from an artist Crossland had told me about weeks ago.
Sinking into the steaming water, I moaned as it soaked my still-weak muscles. Turning the water off, I moved my arms back and forth, shifting through the tub that was big enough to fit myself and all my friends until I found a convenient stone bench to rest on. I leaned my head back, sighing as I lost myself in the utter relaxation that came with such a moment. I’d never been in a tub like this one, and I was quite sure I’d never leave again.
I hummed along with the music, instantly hooked to the deep and hauntingly beautiful voice of the singer, and allowed my mind to wander back to last night, my muscles clenching at the memory of Crossland’s mouth on mine, on my body, on—