Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
A few white drops fell from the cone, snaking between my breasts. Before I knew it, I was panting, ready for him to rip my clothes off and take me.
I did agree to have sex with him at a time of his choosing.
Now could be that time.
“Hmm. So fucking sweet. Anyway.” Oliver pulled from me suddenly, completely composed and unaffected by the kiss, it seemed. “As I said, I have an idea.”
“W – what’s your idea?”
“I want to do the dance, too.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “The dance?”
“Yes. ‘Love is an Open Door.’ It has choreography. Why settle for just the song? Let’s do the dance, too.”
It was getting ridiculous. Did he really think I believed he’d go through with this? Did he think I would? If this was a game of chicken, a round of who-will-blink-first, I refused to be the first one to bail.
“Sure.” I hopped off my seat and stretched, arching my boobs toward his face. “That works for me. So. Ready for our first singing lesson?”
Just when I got my wits about me, Oliver decided to scoop some ice cream out of the cone with his index finger and dip the white cream into my mouth. I opened up for him without a question, staring helplessly at him.
“Fuck.” His eyes were drowsy, sleepy as he traced my lips with the same finger I sucked clean. “You are going to drink every drop of my cum when I finally fuck you, aren’t you?”
“If that ever happens. You’ve been taking your time about cashing in on your win.”
“Just building anticipation.”
“Wanting to fuck you has never been an issue, Oliver. I’m attracted to you. It’s your personality I cannot stand.”
“Big words from someone who is about to marry me.”
Touché.
He’d blink first.
I’d make sure of it.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Oliver
Ollie vB: She’s pissed.
Romeo Costa: What did you do?
Ollie vB: I might have announced our engagement on the New York Times.
Romeo Costa: What engagement? THERE IS NO ENGAGEMENT.
Ollie vB: Semantics.
Romeo Costa: That’s not what semantics means. The lobotomy truly did a number.
Zach Sun: Go ahead and order a futon. It’s over.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Oliver
“Is she teaching us how to sing or how to birth a baby whale the size of an office building?”
At my words, the vocal teacher whipped her head around and glared before leaving the room for a quick bathroom break.
Oops. I thought she’d already left. Not my fault. I could barely breathe on account of the fact that Briar and I had spent the past fifteen minutes practicing “control,” which basically translated into a competition of who could hold their breaths longer. If anything, with her competitive spirit, she resembled Seb more than I did.
From across the tiny studio, Briar grinned at me. “We need to trust the process.”
Behind her, signed posters of Broadway shows decorated every surface, along with framed awards and certificates. Apparently, our instructor was some hot shot.
I didn’t even remember her name. Jillian or Jessica. Something with a J, at any rate. I was too focused on the fact that my fake fiancée – or my real one, depending how well my plan worked – looked downright edible as she focused on the task. Her lips would pucker and move each time she sucked in a breath.
I always knew I was a horny bastard, but getting turned on by one’s ability to breathe was a new one for me.
Oh, and yes, I was willing to marry Briar if it meant keeping her.
I wasn’t completely sure how I felt for her – was it love? Fondness? Eagerness? Relief after fifteen years of grief? Whatever it was, I believed with absolute, beyond-any-doubt certainty that no one else would scratch the surface like she did.
“And be patient, too.” Briar retied her high-top bun, holding the elastic band between her teeth. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Our wedding is in a few months.” I forced myself to tear my eyes away from the elegant curve of her neck as she secured her bun with the band. “Unless we’re going to surgically implant Lin Manuel Miranda and Mariah Carey’s vocal cords into our throats by then …”
“I mean, is the option completely off the table? You are filthy rich.”
“I’ve been known to buy less-than-orthodox things in my lifetime.”
“Yeah?” She eyed me. “Like what?”
Like everything.
Other than her love, I’d never earned anything of true value. It was all just money. The only thing I had worth keeping – Briar herself – I’d lost. And I carried that knowledge, that failure, with me everywhere I went. Some regrets became shadows, lingering in the darkness wherever you go.
“Oh, you know. The usual.” I shrugged. “Prime blood transfusions, one-of-a-kind dinosaur skulls, and a fleet of full-grown tigers.”
“I see everything circles back to the trafficked exotic animals you keep in your secret wing.”
Truly, I applauded her restraint. I didn’t know if I’d wield the same level if someone told me they had a top-secret area I absolutely could not enter, under no circumstances.