Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“I’ll remember that the next time you beg me to come,” I whisper in her ear and bite her earlobe.
“Promises, promises.” She baits me just as she always fucking baits me.
For the rest of the flight, we are on our computers working, and for the first time ever, no one gets on my case about working. A lot of times, I’m nagged to take a break but not with Becca. She works just as hard on her computer, and when we land, she puts her computer away. “I have so much work to catch up on.”
“Play hard,” I say, “work harder.”
“I don’t think that’s the way the saying goes.” She laughs, and when we get off the plane, a car is waiting for us. “I can get a ride home if you are too busy.”
“You mean that, don’t you?” I ask, and she just looks at me confused.
“If it was anyone else …” I say. She walks closer to me, and I love that she doesn’t back down. “You mean, if it was another woman, she would be pissed that you fucked her all weekend long and are expecting her to get her own ride home.” I laugh. “But I’m not one of those women. For one, I think I fucked you just as much as you fucked me.”
“Get in the SUV, Becca,” I say, and her eyes twinkle. If I had the time, I’d bring her back to my house and fuck her a couple more times.
“What do we say?” She folds her arms over her chest. “You can do it.”
“Please,” I say between clenched teeth, and she claps her hands together, walking toward the SUV.
I give the driver her address, and my heart beats a bit erratically when we pull up to her building. “Well, Nico,” she says, turning and looking at me, and she is beautiful. Every single day, she gets more beautiful. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend.”
“Why the fuck do I feel like I’m being dismissed?” I grab her and bring her to me. “I’ll call you later.” Her eyes change from the light to a dark, and I kiss her. Her mouth opens for me as our tongues meet again. We kiss until the door opens, and she slips out of my arms.
The doorman welcomes her home, and she smiles at him. She walks into the building with the man beside her as she rolls her luggage. She never once looks back, making me miss her even more.
I walk into my own house twenty minutes later, dumping my bag on the table in the middle of the room. “Welcome home.” I look up to see Lizzie standing on the second floor, leaning against the railing.
“Hey,” I say to her, picking up the paper she left for me there.
The door opens to the left as she gets out of the elevator. “How lazy did that make me look?”
“You would have been here faster if you took the stairs.” I laugh and look up at her. She just watches me as I walk toward the kitchen. “Did you leave me any food?” I look over my shoulder, knowing she always raids my fridge when I’m gone.
“If you are asking me if I touched your disgusting healthy meals,” she says, sitting on one of the stools at the counter. “That would be a no.”
I laugh, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a black plastic bowl to pop into the microwave. Lizzie has gotten up and is making herself a coffee. She looks over at me. “How was New York?”
“Good,” I say, not giving her any details.
“Did you end up meeting Laurene while you were there?” I shake my head as I eat. “Are you telling me that you stayed in New York all weekend long with Becca?”
“I’m not telling you anything.” I don’t look over at her. I’m not ready for this conversation with her. I’m not ready to share whatever I had with Becca with anyone.
“Oh my God,” she says, slapping the counter. “You have lost your mind.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, confused.
“You had sex with Becca,” she says, and I don’t confirm it. “Do you really think that was the best decision?”
“I don’t know what it has to do with anything,” I say, ignoring the burning in my stomach.
“It has to do with the fact you guys work together,” she says. “How is that going to work?”
“Number one, we don’t work together.” Lizzie’s face says it all. “Okay, we work together sometimes.”
“Seven,” Lizzie says to me. “She is the agent to seven players on your team.”
“And?” I say, shocked that I didn’t know that.
“I just think that there is a line in the sand, and you crossed it,” she says, and I shrug my shoulders. “So what happens now?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I’m here. She’s there.” I ignore the pang of missing her.