Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“It does.” My nerves are pumping, and suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a smart strategy.
He opens my car door and takes my hand and pulls me up into his arms, our faces only millimeters away from each other’s, and my breath catches.
His eyes darken and drop to my lips. “Today, you’re mine.”
I inch back from him. “Pretending to be yours.”
He smirks before licking his lips. And somehow, I think his conquering me has become the world’s greatest challenge. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says as he takes my hand in his. “Invitation?”
Sweetheart.
I dig in my bag and pass it to him. And he reads it as we walk. “Just so you know how to act today, I like my women submissive.”
Ha . . . you wish.
“Just so you know how to act today,” I reply as we walk across the parking lot, “I like my men submissive.”
His hand is big around mine, and it’s giving me all the flutters. There’s like this electrical current that’s running through his body and into mine.
Does he feel it too?
He doesn’t seem to. He’s as unaffected by me as you could possibly be.
Seriously, what was I thinking?
So fucking dumb, Juliet.
We walk through the giant archway doors of the atrium, and I look around in awe. “Wow.”
Everything on the round tables is white, with fancy silverware and candelabras and huge bouquets of white and cream flowers in big beautiful vases. Oversize chandeliers are hanging down in a dramatic fashion on silver chains.
Henley’s eyes roam over the space, and he smiles. “Very nice.”
“Great place for a wedding reception.”
He puts his hand on my behind and pulls me close as he puts his mouth to my ear. “Great place for our first fake date.” His breath tickles my senses, and goose bumps scatter. I smile bashfully.
Stop it.
Fake date . . . this is a fake date.
Don’t forget that for a moment.
He’s already said we can never eventuate into something, due to us living next door to each other, and to be honest, he does have a very valid point.
Henley pulls the invitation out of his pocket and glances down at it. “The service is out on the lawn.” He pulls me by the hand. “This way.”
He’s so tall and intentional. As he pulls me through the room, people turn and look at him. And suddenly, I remember.
I remember what it’s like to have someone take charge.
I haven’t had it for so long, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it.
He leads me through the garden to the perfectly lined up chairs. “Which side?” he whispers.
I smile up at him.
“What?”
“How many weddings have you been to?”
He smirks, embarrassed by his obvious inside knowledge of weddings. “I’m thirty-three—nearly everyone I know is married. Some of my friends twice.”
“Left,” I reply.
He ushers me through. And we sit to the left. He picks up the program and flicks through it. “How did these two meet?” he asks.
“Who, the bride and the groom?”
“Yeah.”
“Um.” I lean into him to talk softly. “They met on Tinder and went on a date but hated each other. He wore her down for a second date and then redeemed himself.”
He smirks.
“She wasn’t interested at first.” I want to elaborate on my story a little. “But he has a really great dick, and she couldn’t resist.”
Naughtiness flashes across his face. “And so she shouldn’t—great dicks are hard to find these days.”
“That’s what I said.”
He leans back and puts his arm around the back of my chair. “What else did you say to her?”
I try and think of something sexy to say. “I asked her what position her groom preferred.”
He smirks and glances up at the groom, who is standing at the altar with his groomsmen as he waits. “Hmm . . .”
“I think missionary,” I whisper.
“No.” He twists his lips as he looks him up and down. “Reverse cowgirl.”
“Reverse cowgirl?” I frown. “Why do you think that?”
He leans in and puts his lips to my ear. “He looks like a nerd, which means he would have watched an exponential amount of porn in his youth.”
I frown in question.
“The very best way to watch your own girl in a porno is reverse cowgirl.” He winks. “Front-row seat to watch your cock slide in deep to make her moan.”
Oh . . .
I get a visual of what he’s just told me. I flutter down below and swallow the lump in my throat. Jeez.
“What’s your favorite position?” he whispers into my ear.
Reverse cowgirl sounds pretty good.
“Um.” I try to think of a sexy answer, but he’s fried my brain, and I’ve got absolutely nothing. “It’s private,” I whisper back. “Why, what’s yours?”
“Lots of favorites.” He circles his finger on my shoulder. “I do like sex swings.”
I frown. What the hell? He has a sex swing?
“I love the uninhibited submission it gives me.” His finger circles lower down my back. His breath dusts my skin, and he may as well be trailing his finger over the lips of my sex, because that’s exactly where I’m feeling it.