Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“I can’t give you what you want,” I say weakly.
“Yeah, I know we’re not going to go all the way. Your cock can stay safely where it is. No worries.”
“What?”
“I already expected you to tell me you couldn’t go all the way. I don’t care, Beau. Just finger me, and I’ll finish you off however you want. That can be hot, too.”
Jesus Christ, this woman. Jesus, god, that mouth.
She won’t have to finish me off. At this rate, I’m going to blow my load in my sweats and then straight-up die.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Really?” She circles my nipple with her finger. “Were you going to tell me about your long list of kinks? I draw the line at weird objects doing dangerous things, but I’m pretty open otherwise. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me.”
“I can’t give you what you want,” I repeat. Not in this bed. Although, that would also be for the best. This has gone too far already. “I can’t give you romance. I can’t give you candlelight and snuggles. And I’m never going to be the one you come home to.”
“Err, ummm…” I guess I darned well earned the well, duh look she beams down at me. “I gathered that. I’m also basically a fugitive, and my life is a hot mess. I didn’t expect you’d want to get involved. As for the boyfriend material part, I always thought that was off the table. You’re way too much a by-the-books or by-the-contract kind of dude.”
“Dude?” I sputter indignantly.
“Dude.” Then, she kisses the end of my nose and rolls off of me.
Rolls. Off. Of. Me.
I’m officially going to die because now she’s pulling the blankets around her and turning to face the other direction. Her body language isn’t screaming fuck you, you insensitive prick of an asshole at me, so I just sit here gaping at her quilt-clad back.
My balls are going to need CPR in a second if they get any bluer, but it’s my jaw that’s going to need a crane to pick it up and put it back in place. My dick isn’t in charge, but literally, what the fuck? She’s just going to go to sleep?
I did just tell her I’m not boyfriend material, but she was pretty insistent that we finish what we started, one way or another, and now she’s just going to bed?
This is reverse psychology at its finest. She’s baiting me and playing games. She’s trying to get me so physically worked up that I cave.
But I caved in the barn and told her about me just like that. She doesn’t need games.
I don’t think she’s playing them either. She’s not that kind of person.
“Ignacia?” I call out.
“Do you want a hand job after all, Beau?”
“No.” I grind my teeth. Her washing machine downstairs is probably a sexier prospect at the moment than I am. It also has more emotional intelligence.
“What makes you think I can’t handle myself? Because I got played once? I’ve definitely learned from that. I didn’t just put the moves on you because I’m in the market for a boyfriend or that I need a man to take care of me, or even that I need someone to stand at my side and take care of me. I do thank you for chasing Aiden off, and yes, I have been terrified of him finding me. What I should have gotten was a good dog. The kind that loves me but has a thing against douchebags.”
“I’m not a dog?” I really don’t know what to say right now. I have nothing surly left to hand out, and really, that’s all I ever toss around. It now strikes me what a feral asshole I’ve become.
Actually, I know I’m one but I didn’t realize the extent to which I have become one.
“You’re certainly not a dog. You’re not cute like one, you’re not furry or cuddly, you don’t wag your tail when you’re excited, and you’re not offering any love. Even the most feral animal can likely be tamed with a gentle hand and some patience. But people aren’t like that. We’re not all feral, we’re not all gentle, and we’re certainly not capable of unconditional love, nor should we be. That kind of blindness only ever gets you in trouble. Love just straight-up sucks for people at this intelligence level. Love shouldn’t be one person getting hurt, but often, that’s how it ends up. Sometimes, it’s both people, but usually, it’s one more than the other. Love isn’t equal. You never get what you give. I tend to give all of me, and it’s something I need to learn not to do. It’s a note for the future, but I don’t think I’ll ever need it. Certainly not with you. This wasn’t about dating or candlelight or cuddles. I know you’re basically the human equivalent of the love child of a cactus, a pincushion, a venomous spider, and one of those crazy sawing tools with the reciprocating blade that no one has a hope in all hell of controlling.”