Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
His accent is hotter when he is riled. “I’m reasonably sure the same thing you call them here.”
He steps closer, making it an effort to keep my eyes on his face. He has those chunky rugby thighs I’m obsessed with. I don’t watch rugby because I’m a fan of sports. It is to add the players’ thighs to my memory bank for future use. It is off season. Hence me needing more than one battery-operated sex toy to get off.
“I’m just confused as to why you seem to think I am one.”
“Aunt Bec,” I huff out with a laugh as if that is the answer to everything. “She’s a little… randy.” My impersonation of his accent during my last word is appalling.
“Clearly if you believe she is responsible for this…” He waves his hand around my apartment in the same manner I used to articulate “randy” before dragging it down his barely-covered body. It is a fight to remove my eyes from his rock-hard abs when he continues. “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little in love with your aunt.”
Laughing, I slouch back on my couch and then fold my arms over my chest. “Last birthday, she set me up on four blind dates… at the same time. She had taken a liking to reverse harem books over the summer and thought I should experience it since I’m her only single niece.”
I grit my teeth. I’m meant to be waving an I’m-not-interested flag, not announcing my single status.
I watch him closely while murmuring, “She said something about four holes being filled at once.” He looks confused, prompting me to say, “I’m still trying to work out where my fourth hole is.”
He smirks, and it makes the conditions in the living room unbearable. I love Aunt Rebecca, but she can be a pain. Principles have no part in her life plan. That’s why she left me to fight this battle on my own. I could be sipping champagne on her latest husband’s mega yacht if my father hadn’t drummed values into me at a young age.
My thoughts are returned to the present when the half-naked man in my apartment says, “Isn’t the fourth hole your ear?”
“I thought the same,” I reply. “But wouldn’t that make it five holes?” I point to my mouth, my pussy, my ass, and then both my ears, tripling his delicious red hue. “That’s five.”
He twists his lips as if he’s never considered that before he inches closer, making the flame burning me from the inside out even hotter. This man is so sexy that I’m on the cusp of being incinerated. “I guess you are right.” A trickle of disappointment treks through my veins when he says, “Perhaps we can discuss it further during dinner?”
His reply exposes he’s my new houseguest, which makes me even more wishful that he was a man who talked with his hands. The number of moves his mouth does as he expresses himself has me picturing its skill in far less amicable positions. I promised no more naked downward dog yoga poses with paying guests after Aunt Bec had to fly halfway across the globe to kick out the last dud.
“We can eat out or order in.”
After sighing away my disappointment, I say, “You’ll never get a reservation this close to Christmas, so my vote is in.”
Nodding, he twists to face a phone on the kitchen counter. I yank my phone out of my pocket. I don’t recall an email from my Airbnb hostess account, but my service has been on the fritz since I reached forty-five thousand unopened emails. It desperately needs a cleanout—just like the cobwebs between my legs.
My eyes shoot up from the “No new emails found” message at the bottom of my inbox when my new houseguest says, “I’m happy for us to eat here, but if you’d rather we do that at your apartment, that’s fine as well.”
“My apartment?” When he nods, I laugh. “This is my apartment. I don’t know what you thought you were signing up for, but the advertisement clearly states a room in a shared apartment.”
He spins to face me so fast that he almost loses his towel.
Only almost.
Bah humbug!
“What do you mean? What advertisement?”
And here I was thinking Englishmen were smart.
I give him a look as if I am sorry he has all the brawn and only a little bit of brain. I’m not, but I’m a seasoned actor, so he will never know. “The Airbnb ad.”
He still looks stumped. “I’ve never used Airbnb in my life.”
Confusion echoes in my tone. “Then what are you doing here? I barely have time for Airbnb’s app, so I haven’t advertised my room to rent anywhere else.”
“I’m here because this is my apartment.” He speaks slowly as if I am dumb, and it ensures I have no trouble hearing the pure honesty in his tone.