Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“You and me?”
“Like, let’s say we were… together. At other dinners like tonight. Would that reflect badly on you, or some crap like that?”
“Together,” I repeated, turning the word over in my mind.
What did he mean by that?
And why did it make something flutter in my chest, in a way that it probably shouldn’t?
He groaned in frustration, looking up at the trees and sky above us. He ran his hands through his hair, then gave a big, animated shrug.
“Fuck it,” he said. “I’m just going to say it. If I was, um, dating you. If I was your boyfriend.”
It felt like the world beneath me had just tilted.
And for a moment, I had no clue what to say.
I wasn’t even breathing, for God’s sake.
Storm Rosling was standing there, asking about what it might be like if we were dating?
“I—” I started.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Listen, I am just as happy being your, ah, fuck toy, or anything like that. I know I’m not, um, boyfriend material. I’m kind of a loose cannon. Well, screw it, I won’t mince words. I can be a burden.”
“My fuck toy?” I repeated, and a peal of laughter sounded out from behind us.
We turned to see a group that must have been a bachelorette party walking by. There was one woman wearing a white dress with Bride-2-Be scrawled on a sash across it. They all looked at us, and the bride-to-be pumped her fist in the air.
“Be his proud fuck toy!” she shouted at us as they walked by, clearly drunk. “I had a fuck toy once, and now I’m marrying him in two weeks!”
“Power to the fuck toys!” one of her friends shouted, and they all cheered and laughed again as they walked by.
Storm and I smiled like idiots, looking at one another.
But I still felt like my world was spinning. Like it was still shifting on its axis, subtly but deeply.
“You thought about what might happen if you were my boyfriend?” I asked him, looking up at him and suddenly feeling like I was going to melt.
“Listen, I know I’m not your type,” he said. “All Ivy League educated, coming from old money, all that shit. I don’t know what the fuck the brand names of nice tailored suits are, and to be honest, no matter how rich I get from football, I’ll never care about those things.”
“You don’t have to care about any of that, Storm.”
His eyes burned into mine. “I really care about you, though,” he said. “I want to be… good, for you. In whatever way that means.”
“You think you’d be a good boyfriend?” I asked, my heart feeling like it might burst.
He gave me a hint of his dimpled smile. “Oh, I know I’m a great boyfriend,” he said. “I’m just not sure if you’d even consider me.”
I shook my head. “Fuck off. Fuck you,” I said, heat bubbling up in my chest.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Let me down easy.”
“God, are you crazy?” I asked. The fire that used to consume our every interaction came rushing back all at once, flooding me. “How could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”
His eyes went wide as he looked back at me. “Oh.”
“Oh,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Storm Rosling, you are certifiably out of your fucking mind if you think I wouldn’t be the luckiest spoiled privileged-ass prick in the world to have you as my boyfriend.”
A smile of pure joy spread across his face.
I reached out, giving him a little shove on his chest.
“Oh, it’s on,” he said in a low growl, and the amount of desire in the way he looked at me literally made my knees feel weak.
“Since when are you the kind of guy who would want a boyfriend, anyway?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even, despite the fact that inside I felt like a fucking fireworks show.
This sexy, incredible, talented, impossible man wanted me.
Storm shrugged. “Since I met you, Fancy Pants.”
He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug before I could say another word. He pulled me in tighter than ever, crushing his lips to mine in a kiss.
And I actually felt like I was melting, now. Melting into his arms. Giving up the last bit of resistance I once had, and acknowledging just how fucking much this meant to me. How much he meant to me.
Storm had changed my life, in one fell swoop. He’d changed me for the better, just by being himself.
I loved who he was.
“God, I wanted this all night,” he said, kissing all over my face. “Do you know how hard it is to sit next to you in public and not touch you constantly?”
“I was so focused on the dinner meeting because if I looked at you for too long I just wanted to fall into your arms, too,” I said. “I can’t believe I’m actually admitting that out loud. I made myself swear I wouldn’t tell you.”