Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Arousal floods me like a warm river. I’m wrapped in a cocoon of pleasure and lust thanks to his words, his voice, his heady intensity. His raw sex appeal. Then, he lets go of my thigh, leans back in his chair, and parks his arms behind his head, all cool and man in charge. “But not quite yet.”
I want to scream for him to touch me again.
He picks up his glass, takes a final sip, then signals for the check when he spots the server.
I take a moment to catch my breath. To fan myself.
After he signs the check, Nick turns to me and says, “Thank you for letting me take you out to dinner.”
“Thank you. I had an amazing time.”
“Me too.” He stands, offers his hand, and I take it. We leave the restaurant and stroll down the block, neither one of us wanting this night to end, it seems. With a hand on my lower back, he says in a low voice, “I need to spend more time with you to decide what to do to you first, Lola Jones.”
It’s not the first time he’s said my name tonight, but for a few seconds, a smidge of guilt wedges into my chest over the use of it. If I’m going to sleep with him—if I’m going to finally have sex—should he know my legal name?
But then I kick that guilt away. There’s no need to tell him my real name because there’s no need to bring up my too-well-known family. Not my mother. And certainly not my father. My chest squeezes painfully but I don’t want to poke around the hole in my heart.
I only want to feel good tonight.
When I hear a poppy tune drifting down from a nearby club, I’m desperate to stay in the moment with us, not my dark thoughts, so I ask, “Do you like to dance?”
Nick seems to chew on the question, then he stops walking, dropping his hand from my back. A crease digs into his brow. “I keep meaning to ask. How old are you?”
Whoa. That’s a mood killer.
This conversation was inevitable, despite how long he’d waited to ask the question, I’d wondered if it was a non-issue for a one-night stand. I could lie. I could tell him I’m twenty-five. That feels old enough. And how would he ever know the truth? I’m not going to see him again after tonight.
But I’m not going to lie to get him in bed. I’d be livid if a man did that to me. So I lift my chin, all tough girl now. Only, before I can answer, my phone trills. I grab it from my clutch purse to silence it. The word “Mom” flashes across the screen.
My stomach roils.
Are you kidding me?
She’s the worst person in the world to call right now. I hit ignore. But Nick’s already seen the name winking on the screen.
Mom, Mom, Mom.
Could I seem any younger?
His expression shifts instantly. Gone are the sparkling flirty eyes. In their place is an all-business gaze. “If you need to talk to her, it’s fine.”
Just ask when it’s my bedtime, why don’t you?
I try to smile it away—the kind of unknowable smile I learned to use when I was exhausted from everyone asking how I was doing once I finally returned to my junior year of high school after that night. “It’s fine. She’s just a worrier,” I say, lightly.
But I understand her worries. Truly, I do.
“Do you need to call her?” There’s distance in his voice, like this whole exchange bothers him. It bothers me too. But I see she sent me a text.
Sweetheart, are we on for lunch and tennis Sunday at the club? I want to hear all about Miami. Also, lock the chain on your door.
She knows I do, but she always reminds me anyway…but I get it. Also, I always lock the chain.
“She wants to get together when I’m back in the city. I’ll text her later,” I say to Nick, but I don’t mention the tennis club because that screams Richie Rich. Then, fuck it. If this date is going tits up because I’m young, so be it. Better now than later. “To answer your question, I’m twenty-three. I graduated from business school a few months ago. I started The Makeover app while I was getting my MBA.” Maybe this whole short-lived tryst with Nick will be over before it begins. I’ve finally had a great date and it’s spiraling down the drain. But so be it. “So if that’s a problem, then I’ll say goodnight. Thank you for dinner, and I had a lovely time.”
I take a step to leave.
“Whoa,” Nick says and grabs my wrist, stopping me. He looks me in the eyes, intense, powerful. “I had a great time. I’m still having a great time. But if you’re ready for this night to be over, I’ll walk you back to the hotel. I’ll say goodnight in the lobby like a gentleman after I make sure you get safely in the elevator. But if you want to dance, then I want to take you to that club,” he says.