Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
OMG, Clancy’s taking me on a date! A real one! Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been enjoying each other this past week. We’ve done morning runs in Central Park several times now, and of course, we’ve been fucking like rabbits morning, noon, and night. Hell, I’ve even moved into the master suite with him, and I wake in his arms as the sun’s rays splatter on the bedspread.
But this is different. This is a real date, like a man does with the woman he adores, and I’m beyond excited.
Of course, over the past week, we’ve settled into a routine of sorts. Like I mentioned, I’m sleeping in his bed every night now, and there’s a song and dance routine that goes with it. After dinner, we retreat to the den for some TV and last-minute work. I usually send out a few more resumes while simultaneously browsing Instagram, and Clancy taps away at his laptop. I like putting Say Yes to the Dress on the big TV, but my lover hates it. The billionaire’s protested several times, but he always gives in with a grunt after I mute the volume.
But then, come 9 p.m. or so, Clancy starts wrapping up. The laptop lid closes, and he’ll get up and stretch while letting out a loud yawn. I’ll do the same, snapping my laptop closed loudly while mirroring his actions with a cute but also very vocal yawn of my own. Then, he pretends to notice me and asks if I’m heading to bed. We’re so silly engaging in this charade, but it’s fun.
“Yes,” I murmur every night while smiling sweetly. “I’m getting pretty tired. I’ve had a long day.” Of course, my days are very relaxed. I’m still sending out blizzards of resumes, but that only takes an hour or two in the mornings. The rest of the time, I’m lounging by the pool or reading in the library or just browsing on the web. Clancy doesn’t care what I do, so long as I’m happy.
The CEO grins delightedly at me.
“Good, I’m getting tired too. Come on, pretty girl. Let’s head up to bed.”
Of course, I’m already in my pajamas, which consist of a silky spaghetti strap top and a pair of matching short-shorts in the palest peach. They’re revealing and sexy, and Clancy ripped up the last set that I had in pink.
Then with a growl, he’ll sweep me into his arms, bridal-style, and march to the master suite. The whole way, I’m giggling while pressing hot kisses to his bronzed throat and stroking his biceps, and as soon as we land on the mattress, it’s game on. Our nights together are heavenly and I’m often tender the next morning from the relentless acrobatics.
But the routine works for us, and my man has admitted that he’s never been more satisfied. After all, I’m at his beck and call morning, noon, and night, and I’m an eager, willing partner too. He doesn’t force sex; the alpha male would never do something like that. It’s just that whenever I see that muscular physique, my insides go hot and damp, my knees like rubber. I can’t help but assault Clancy sometimes, I need him so desperately, and he appears to feel the same way because he hasn’t turned me down yet.
But tonight, we’re going on a date and I’m over-the-moon with excitement. “So where are we headed?” I ask coyly, as he passes me a cup of coffee after our usual morning run.
I know the billionaire’s been mulling it over for days, and I can’t wait to hear what he’s about to say.
“Miniature golf,” he announces. “It’ll be fun.” I snort, nearly choking on my joe. The idea sounds so silly. I haven’t been miniature golfing since I was a teenager because it was the only thing to do with my friends that we could afford without blowing our budgets. Hell, it’s barely a step above bowling. I laugh, but Clancy doesn’t, so I stop with an incredulous look.
“You’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I giggle. “It’s just not something I would have pictured you enjoying, that’s all. I see you as the dark, dangerous man in a black suit at a fancy bar or restaurant. Or the dandy at a real golf course, clad in pink pants.”
Clancy rolls his eyes. “Well, of course I play regular golf too, but I figured miniature might be more fun for us. The course is smaller, so it’s a little easier. Plus, I don’t wear pink pants. Ever,” he mock growls.
A smile breaks across my face. This isn’t what I was expecting, but it does sound like it could be a good time to be honest. I always enjoyed mini-golf when I was younger, and it’ll make for a playful, fun night. Not to mention, it’s an opportunity to wear a pair of short shorts and a tight baby polo, which will drive my man nuts. But I still want to needle him.