Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Nothing can change at the house.”
“Agreed,” she says quickly. “And you can’t regret it and fire me for it.”
“This is only for tonight.”
I have to look over at her when she doesn’t answer, but I find her nodding her head in agreement a little disappointing.
“One night,” she eventually says. “Scratching an itch.”
“Yeah,” I agree, even though the words coming from her mouth feel wrong. “Are you sober?”
“What?” she snaps, her eyes finally finding mine.
“I need to know if you’re making this decision because you want—”
“I’m not drunk, but tomorrow would be a lot less awkward if I were.”
“I should take you home,” I mutter, but after placing the SUV into drive, I head for the highway instead of the house.
As much as I need the scent of her on my sheets, there’s a line we have to maintain in order for this not to end up being the biggest mistake of our lives.
Chapter 20
Madison
Boss with benefits?
I snort, a humorless sound, as I feign interest in the generic art hanging on the wall in the hotel lobby. I can’t even tell what it’s supposed to be. It’s half watercolor, half blobs and spatters. I know I’m not drunk, but I feel like I should be. I wasn’t lying when I told Chase that tomorrow was going to be insanely awkward, but, despite knowing it, I still plan to go through with it.
It stung a little to even say it was scratching an itch, but ignoring him hasn’t worked since returning from Detroit. Maybe this is exactly what we need. When I let him pull me from the bar, I figured we’d hook up. I’d find it lacking the way all sexual encounters have been for me so far in life, and then I’d be able to move past whatever this little obsession is I have with the man.
The way he rolled his hips against me in the truck has me doubting my ability to do that, however. We were like two horny teens dry humping each other. Well, not exactly dry on my part. I was so embarrassed when he looked down and saw what my body was doing.
“Ready?”
I spin in his direction, surprised that I got so lost in my head that I lost sight that we were here together.
“Y-yes,” I say.
He holds up the key but doesn’t move toward the elevator.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
As I see no other recourse, I grab his free hand and pull him toward the elevator.
“It’s weird being back here after so long,” I whisper as the doors close.
The hotel was built when I was a sophomore in high school. Chase was already gone from Lindell before they started construction on it.
“You’ve stayed in this hotel before?” He doesn’t bother to hide the hint of jealousy in his voice, and I kind of love it.
“We had prom in the conference room. The elevators haven’t changed.”
“The conference room is on the ground level,” Chase says. “There was no need to get on the elevator.”
“I’m sure Anthony Miller would argue that statement.”
“You dated Anthony Miller?” he asks, just as the doors closes us in.
I frown as I reach forward and press the button for the third floor, having seen our room number on the hotel envelope he held up.
“Didn’t date. We went to senior prom together.”
“Weren’t dating and you—”
I hold my hand up, silencing him. “You may want to keep your opinions to yourself.”
He doesn’t say another word, but he doesn’t look happy as the elevator opens.
“Do you feel weird about this?” I ask, as he slides the keycard into the mechanism on the door.
“Weird? Should I feel weird?”
“The age difference was a big deal before,” I begin, but he grabs my forearm before I can speak further.
“Before? What?”
I shake my head, realizing as big of a crush as I had on him in junior high, I was never on this man’s radar. I’m probably only on it now because of the convenience.
Part of me is urging me to turn around and walk away. I could easily call Adalynn to come pick me up, but then again, I’ll never hear the end of it if I do. The other part of me, the one that’s screaming at me from the top of her lungs, is reminding me that I’d be an idiot for not following through with this.
“Madison.”
I lift my eyes up to him, but they drop down to his outstretched hand a second later. The invitation is more tempting than it should be. When I hold my hand out to him, I no longer feel like I’m in control. I don’t feel as if I made the decision. It feels like fate is drawing me closer to him, and by the time our palms are together, the connection, that zing of current that runs between us, feels kismet, like this was always supposed to happen.