Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
The alcohol in my bloodstream chooses that minute to soften my mind and my knees. The delicious buzz makes me even more convinced that my pep talk has hit the mark.
By the time I stroll out of the restroom, I’m feeling confident. Until I bump right into Dex.
My shoulder thuds against his concrete rock of a chest, and breath whooshes from my mouth with the shock, but Dex seems unphased.
“There you are,” he says, as though he’s been searching for me all along.
“Here I am.” I smile brightly as Dex gazes down at me with eyes so warm I all but melt on the spot. What must he look like with his long hair out of the messy bun? Does it hang around his shoulders, all sexy and tousled? Would he let me run my fingers through it?
Oh Lord.
“So, tell me, Kyla. Is Noah right that the blush on your cheeks is because you’ve been having impure thoughts about us?
“Impure?” I stutter. I mean, I know what the word means, but I wasn’t expecting it to come out of Dex’s mouth, accompanied by a small but wicked smile.
“Yeah, you know. Thoughts that put a blush on your cheeks, like the one there right now.”
His tattooed hand rises so his fingers can brush softly over my heated skin, eyes never leaving mine.
“Dawn thinks you guys are sexy,” I babble, cringing as his smile broadens. “She keeps telling me that I should make the most of it. She’s crazy that way, unlike me.”
I look down, somewhere between Dex’s broad chest and narrow waist, but he doesn’t let me stay that way for long. When his hand tips my chin up, I know I’m in trouble. And when he ducks his head so he can talk closer to my ear, my knees feel as though they might give way.
“I think you can be crazy too, Kyla. You just button yourself up so tight. But maybe Dawn’s right. Maybe you should make the most of us. Maybe we can all play a little game. No strings.”
“A game?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Eight dates. Eight different kinks. You can decide which you like the best.”
“Eight kinks?” What is he talking about?
“Think of us as a big box of chocolates. Carl is the bitter dark chocolate that’s infused with chili. Lex is the fruity orange cream center. Kole is the chocolate that you think is going to be caramel but turns out to have the nut inside. We each have something different for you to taste, and when you’re done, you’ll know what kind of chocolate you like the best, and you’ll have a whole lot more confidence to pick the right kind of chocolate for you in the future.”
Oh my God. Is he seriously propositioning me with a sex buffet?
Seriously?
Am I living in reality, or have I slipped into some kind of alternate universe where gorgeous men like him are interested in slightly disheveled-looking organization freaks who struggle to have fun like me?
This can’t be happening. I don’t know what to reply. My head is swimming with images of my Ink Factor colleagues naked, sitting in a large plastic chocolate tray, just waiting for me to pick them.
How would I pick? I bet they’d all taste amazing.
Blinking fast, I try to clear my head.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how my work colleagues would taste. There is so much about it that is just straight-up wrong.
But Dex smells so good, and the warmth and sheer masculinity rolling off him have me dizzy and dazed.
“You want to help me work out what kind of man-flavor I like?” Even as the question leaves my drink-addled brain, I’m already shrinking with shame. What the hell do I even sound like?
“I want to help you have some fun, Kyla. I want you to feel gorgeous and special and desired. I want you to know all the different kinds of pleasure you can feel and be confident enough to ask for it with whoever you fall in love with.”
“Love,” I scoff. “I’m not interested in love.”
Dex touches my cheek again, this time allowing his fingers to play with a strand of my hair. “That means you need us even more than I thought.”
“But we’re workmates,” I say.
The way Dex shrugs makes it clear that it isn’t something that he sees as a barrier to his plan. “We can have drinks together, can’t we? We could watch a movie. We could eat dinner together. You wouldn’t think anything about that.”
“But none of those things involve sex.”
“But they could involve feelings, and feelings can be way more disruptive than sex.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do any of it,” I say. “Just to be on the safe side.”
Wobbling a little on my feet, I grab Dex’s shoulder for stability. His shoulder that’s like a huge hunk of granite. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe means you’re thinking about it.”