Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I almost had her ready for another round when her phone pinged. Then pinged again. She pressed a kiss to my lips, then dismounted me.
“Rejected for a text.”
“I wasn’t about to fuck you again.”
My hard dick said differently. I watched her ass as she crossed the room. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“No condoms, remember?” Smirking, she grabbed her phone and the box of half-eaten pizza we’d had delivered earlier in the day.
My grandma had always told me true love made little sense because nothing about it was sensible, and right at that moment, as I stared at Blake standing there, naked and holding a pizza box, I got it. For the first time in my life, I really got it.
I thought I might already love that girl…
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Blake said.
My attention strayed from her perfect nipples to the disgusted frown she had aimed at her phone. Only two things would have prompted a look like that. Blake finding out there was a new remix of “Adrenaline Boner” uploaded to iTunes, or that text she’d just received had something to do with her sister, Kate.
“What?”
“Kate sent an e-vite to the rescheduled engagement party.” Blake dropped the device back onto the table. “It’s at Bon Apple Tea over by Central Park. I guess they figured Rent-a-Poo couldn’t sabotage an uppity tearoom in the middle of Manhattan.” Her tits bounced when she dropped onto the bed, pizza box still in hand. “France doesn’t even do tea rooms, do they? And what a stupid name. Like I’m going to show up to Bon Apple Tea. Bon Apple Fuck You, Kate…”
It sounded terrible. “You should go.”
She lifted the pizza box lid, picked melted cheese from the top, and stuck it inside her mouth. “I’d rather lock myself in a mausoleum.”
An uncomfortable sense of jealousy crept into my chest. The hostility she had toward Kate and Jimbo was more than understandable, but what if part of it was because she still had feelings for the dickhead?
I took a slice of cold pizza, telling myself to let it go.
She grabbed another string of melted cheese. “Why would I want to go?”
I’d heard enough stories about Kate to know the girl had some serious jealousy when it came to Blake. Any accomplishment Blake had made, Kate tried to either minimize or outdo.
Blake had signed up for a 3K. Kate had signed up for a 5K.
Blake had landed a job as a travel journalist, and Kate had taken up a hobby of freelance writing and scored an op-ed at the New York Times. I’d looked it up. Kate wrote like shit.
Blake had gotten engaged. Kate had stolen her fiancé.
The list of petty, vindictive shit could have wrapped around the circumference of the Earth at least three times. So why did I think Kate kept inviting Blake to her parties? Because she was the definition of a jealous asshole. “You should go because I don’t think she expects you to.”
Her blue gaze met mine, then narrowed in thought as she took a bite of pizza. “You’re right. I should be the bigger, pettier person and go.”
I didn’t even want Jimbo laying eyes on her as she strutted into Bon Apple Tea with her thick, dark hair falling over one shoulder in a sexy-ass wave, wearing one of her colorful little sundresses. Those things hugged her curves so well it would make any man’s dick hard. Then I worried that the idiot dickhead would suddenly realize he’d screwed up.
The vision of him tapping a spoon on his champagne glass as he moved to the front of the stuffy tearoom to confess his undying love for Blake surfaced. I’d evidently let Blake force-feed me one too many romance movies over the past few days. Still, she was my girl, and I didn’t want anyone to have the slightest inclination she could be theirs. More than that, though, I didn’t want anyone, especially not her family, to make her feel uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” I said, dusting pizza crust dust from my hands.
“Why would you subject yourself to that kind of torture?”
Because, as insane as it sounded, nothing had ever felt so natural, so right as us being together did. I mean, come on. We were sitting in bed, naked, and devouring left-over pizza.
What was more natural between two people than that?
The rain continued to come down, and Blake had forced me to watch another romance movie. Failure to Launch. A movie she said had scared her away from dolphin experiences for life.
The end credits rolled as the two main characters sailed out to sea on a sailboat that must have cost at least three-hundred thousand dollars.
Blake shoved off my chest, propping herself up in bed. “It was good, right?”
Had I laughed? Yes. Did I think the reason Blake liked it was that she identified with the main character, who had a knack for being bitten by typically docile creatures? Like dolphins and a chipmunk. Also, yes. “It was good. But you realize it’s unrealistic.”