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)
A slow pulse begins to throb.
I get a vision of him naked and hard, tying me into a sex swing, dominating me in the most depraved way, and I clench to try and get some friction down there.
This man is a master seducer. I’m about to blow in just three whispered sentences.
Fake date.
The chairs begin to fill, and Henley looks around as his finger circles my shoulder. After a while he leans in and murmurs in my ear, “What panties are you wearing?”
What?
“Why do you want to know that?” I whisper.
“Because as I feel your skin beneath my fingers, I’m imagining myself being on my knees in front of you, peeling you out of them with my teeth. I want a visual of what I’m about to take off right here in front of everyone.”
Hold the phone . . . hold the fucking phone, because I am dead.
I look up at him, and he gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time.
The air between us is thick and heavy.
“Henley,” I breathe.
He bends and softly nips my ear with his teeth. “Yes,” he whispers. His breath is quivering. He’s as hot for this as I am.
“Behave yourself,” I whisper.
“Give me a color.”
“White,” I reply before my mouth-to-brain filter kicks in.
Satisfaction flashes across his face as his dark eyes hold mine.
The wedding waltz begins, and I’m snapped out of my arousal fog as the bride begins to walk down the aisle.
My body watches the nuptials as I hover way in the sky, watching Henley and me from above. He holds my hand in his lap, and I’m melting into a puddle at his touch. Imagining cowgirls in sex swings and public oral orgasms with legs over shoulders during weddings.
This bad man makes me think about bad things.
Four hours later
“So, Henley,” Warren asks across the table, “tell me, what do you do?”
“I’m an engineer.” Henley smiles, but his smile doesn’t touch his eyes, and I get the feeling that Warren annoys the shit out of him.
The reception is dragging. We’ve had dinner, and Henley has been answering a barrage of questions from my work friends. He’s charming the pants off all of them, of course, and they are officially hanging on his every word. And me, well, I just want the wedding to be over . . . but then, I don’t want the wedding to be over. Because then my one date with him will be over, and to be honest, I’m really into him being all over me.
Henley picks up my hand and puts it on his lap under the table.
“What do you do, Warren?” Henley asks him.
“I’m a nurse.”
“What’s your favorite part of the job?” he continues as he discreetly slides my hand up over his crotch. I can feel that he’s hard, and it takes all my strength not to wrap my hand around it.
Fuckity fuck.
I pick up my wine as I act casual. No big deal I’m feeling up my fake boyfriend who I hate in front of my work friends.
“I like walking out of my shift knowing that I gave my all to my patients,” Warren continues.
“It must be very rewarding,” Henley replies. He flexes his hardened dick under my hand, and I nearly choke on my wine.
“We should dance, puppy,” Henley says.
Chloe’s and Leonie’s eyes widen with excitement.
I roll my lips to hide my smile. “Should we?”
“Uh-huh.” He stands and takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor and takes me into his arms. And we begin to sway to the slow music.
“I thought I told you not to call me that,” I say as I act serious.
“Well . . . it’s your fault that I call you that.”
“How is it my fault?” I gasp.
“You shouldn’t have such great puppies.”
“Puppies?”
“Yes, you know. Breasts. The things I should be sucking on right about now.”
My mouth falls open as we sway. “If you say these things on a fake date, what on earth would you say on a real date?”
He pauses as if thinking for a moment. “I would tell you that you look beautiful. Like a dream come true.”
I smile up at him as we dance. “You charmer, you.”
“And I would tell you that it has taken every inch of my strength not to kiss you tonight.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“And I would tell you that you should be thankful that you are dodging a bullet.”
My heart swells.
“What would you say to me?” he asks softly.
“I would tell you to shut up and kiss me anyway.”
His eyes hold mine, and something shifts. We move from the pretend world to a real one.
In slow motion, his lips drop and softly brush mine.
Oh . . .
Our kiss deepens, right here on the dance floor for all to see.
And every cell in my body lights up as if this is my first kiss . . . maybe it is.