Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say when we’ve ordered and she’s sipping a coke. “I have questions.”
“Oh?”
“My main one being, how the hell is it possible that you’re not published yet? Your writing is excellent.”
A pink blush rises on her cheeks. “That’s nice of you to say.”
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Michael has made it very clear that I’m not good enough and not ready. And I believe him. I just showed him a draft, and he said it still needs more work. It sucks, because I was hoping that I finally nailed it, but it is what it is, I guess.”
“That’s why you were in the office that day?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, you’ve only read what I’ve written for you,” Erin points out. “Maybe I’m just better at mimicking than I am at original stuff.”
“I highly doubt that.”
She shrugs and takes another sip. I make a mental note to talk with Michael about that, because he won’t lie to me. And he’s been my agent since the beginning. If there’s a problem, he’ll tell me.
But by the same token, if she wasn’t good enough to write for me, he wouldn’t have suggested it.
“And I think you have things to tell me too?” I ask.
Her eyes sparkle. “Negotiations? Maybe.”
“Let me propose something, and we’ll go from there.”
Erin leans forward on the table, the position putting her breasts in the perfect position to stare at them. I need to spend some more time with them, because even clothed, they look delicious. “I’m listening," she says.
“If there’s no reason that you can’t, I propose that for the rest of this gig, you live with me. During work hours, you’ll write, and the rest of the time, you’re mine.”
She’s close enough that I watch her pupils dilate. The idea fascinates her. “I need to be able to leave for things,” Erin says. “Things I’ve already planned.”
“Of course.” I incline my head.
“And what kind of things do you want me to do in this time that I’m yours?”
I take a sip of my wine. I wish I could have bought her a glass, but she assured me it was fine. Erin didn't make a fuss about how she isn’t twenty-one yet, didn't even ask me to sneak her some wine or sway the waiter. It was like she was aware of her age compared to mine but didn't give a fuck.
I say, “We can figure that out together. But very little of it will involve clothing.”
She laughs, eyes bright. “I can’t believe that I’m doing this.”
“So that’s a yes?”
Lifting the glass in a cheer to me, she says, “Yes.”
“Excellent.”
The waiter comes over, and Erin sits backwards quickly. Pity the view is gone.
“Shit,” the waiter says, and that’s all the warning that we got before spaghetti falls all over Erin. Sauce is everywhere, sliding down her shirt, soaking into the fabric, and staining her lap.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” the waiter says, placing my food down. “I’ll grab a towel.”
I hold up a hand. “That won’t be necessary. Bring me the check and put my food in a to-go box. Seems we’ll be dining at home after all.”
The waiter, looking guilty, goes to do what I ask, and Erin is still blinking, confused. I can’t help but grin, because her covered with sauce is honestly hilarious. “Well,” I say, “now I have a valid reason to get you out of those clothes.”
“As long as I get food,” she says. “Anything.”
We’re out of the restaurant and heading back to my place in five minutes flat. Fine with me. I can’t want to be alone with her again.
6
Erin
Being covered in tomato sauce is not my idea of sexy. In fact, it’s kind of gross. Cold and sticky. But at the very least I’m not hungry anymore, having devoured half of Malik’s giant portion of alfredo.
I need to get out of these clothes now that my stomach isn’t screaming at me. “I’m not planning on going home and getting things until tomorrow,” I told him. “Have anything that I can borrow?”
He’s leaning over the kitchen island, looking at me with dark, hungry eyes. This arrangement that we’re about to have. I can’t believe that I said yes. But how can I say no? I want him, and when he looks at me like that, my body instantly responds. I’m wet. Just another thing to add to what’s all over my clothes.
“The washing machine is through there,” he points to a small hallway. “Meet me upstairs once you put your clothes in.”
I swallow. That will mean that I’m going upstairs naked. But I would have ended up like that anyway. “Okay.”
His eyes don’t leave me until he’s out of the room, and I shudder. The sheer heat in his eyes is enough to drive me mad. I don’t think that I’ve ever put together a load of laundry so fast. I don’t even care that technically these clothes need to be in separate loads. They’re going together today.