Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Me
It was one time. I was distracted and grabbed the wrong thing.
Dickhead
I’m just making sure you don’t get distracted again and force me to drink that diet, fizzy, salty water shit.
One time. One time, I accidentally grabbed the low-calorie seltzer, and my dickhead best friend won’t ever let me forget it.
Can I help that Piper started refusing to come over to my place after the girls’ get-togethers out of the blue, and I was feeling out of sorts worrying something was up with her?
Yes, I’m a pussy-whipped moron. We’ve already established that.
“It’s been the day from hell.” I hold my phone against my shoulder and juggle my grocery bags. Dillon’s special ringtone played at the most inopportune time. I was walking up the stairs holding my groceries in one hand and my purse in the other. Of course, I didn’t want to miss his call, so I fumbled everything around so I could find my phone. Can you say royally screwed? Because that’s what I am. Totally in love with a jerk who isn’t looking for anything permanent. Fudge my life.
“What happened?” At least he asks about my day.
“Our new photographer is a massive pain in the rear.” Boy is that an understatement. Mark is a diva with a capital D. If I have to deal with one more of his temper tantrums, I might lose my mind. Plus, I’ve been feeling icky lately, so my tolerance for assholes is at zero.
“Want me to have a talk with him?” Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Conceited might not be my boyfriend, but he sure likes to act like it.
I drop my bags on the counter and sigh in relief as all the blood rushes back to my fingers. “Now, Dillon, you know I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.”
“I’ll gladly do it.” I guess he’s tired of listening to me complain about the magazine’s new employee. Dillon switches gears quickly, making my head spin. “Are you going to girls’ night?”
“Not tonight. I don’t have it in me to deal with anyone tonight. I want a long hot bath, and maybe some cuddle time with my kitty.” I leave out the part where I hope he’s here with me, waiting to see if he’ll volunteer to come over.
“Do I count as anyone? You could cuddle with me instead of the cat.” Bingo. The restriction around my heart eases at his offer.
“I could deal with you. If you bring wine and tacos with you.” My poor kitty won’t be getting my undivided attention tonight, but he’ll get over it. Over the last two years, Romeo has gotten used to sharing my attention with Dillon.
“That sounds like a plan. I’ll grab your favorite wine and those horrible tacos you love on my way.” He always complains before I make him eat Three Amigos tacos. Then he ends up hoovering a whole bag himself. “I can give you a nice long back rub after your bath. I’ll even pick up the kitty treats Romeo loves, and you can cuddle with me while the cat enjoys his treats.” I forget all about the wine and tacos. The rest of his offer is way too tempting to even consider refusing.
“I definitely can’t refuse that offer.” My heart beats in a funny rhythm every time Dillon acts like a concerned lover. For a few seconds, I’m able to pretend he’s actually my man, not some secret fling. “Make sure to get Romeo the salmon-flavored treats. Those are his favorite.”
“I’ll be there in a few. Go take your bath. I’ll let myself in.” That’s another thing. Do flings usually have keys to each others’ apartments? This whole secret relationship thing is so confusing.
I’m sitting back in my huge garden tub, letting the hot water wash away my frustrations, when I hear the front door open. A few seconds later, I can hear Dillon’s deep voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m betting he’s bribing my stubborn kitty with fancy cat treats.
When the bathroom door opens, I crack one eye open and mumble, “You can only come in if you have a treat for me, too.”
“It’s a good thing I thought ahead and brought this for you.” He kneels next to the tub and sets a full glass of wine on the edge. “I have a few other ideas up my sleeve to help relax you.”
“I’m all ears.” I take a healthy sip of my favorite white wine.
“No, spitfire, you’re all curves.” He leans over and runs his nose along my wet collarbone and my mind goes blank. I groan my approval when he slides his hand into the water and wraps it around one of my boobs.
“Oh, I like that.” I compliment his work.
“I’m glad.” He smiles and leans over to kiss me. The word kiss is too tame for what he’s doing to me. His lips move over mine while his tongue explores my mouth, devouring every ounce of frustration from my soul and replacing it with intense desire. I lose track of time while his warm, soft lips and talented tongue drive me wild.