Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I clench my jaw, my cock already semi-hard. I just can’t keep my hands off this woman. But tonight, I have to at least until after dinner.
“Let’s go. I want to discuss something with you,” I say as I grab her hand and pull her toward the exit.
We go to a local restaurant, so we’re not too far from the club and her car, and it won’t take her long to drive home.
“Is it true you used to mainly ride your motorcycle, but now always drive your car?” she asks curiously.
“Who told you that?”
“Paula.”
“Maybe I should rethink her raise,” I grumble under my breath. She laughs as the hostess leads us to a table in a secluded corner.
I’d fallen into the habit of driving my car when stopping by my establishments. I didn’t, however, expect to spend so much time at Pearl. But my curiosity was piqued by this little blonde monster. And I continued driving the car because it had more room. Now, I have a booster seat permanently in the back for her son.
We order meals and a bottle of red wine. She talks about the ideas she has for the social media accounts, and I listen, agreeing with her on most things. How could I not? I’ve never seen this side of Posie before. She enjoys her work, I realize. She’s so passionate about it.
When they place our meals down, I take a sip of the wine, watching her silently as she looks at her plate with anticipation. I’ve come to learn she really enjoys food. I figured this out because the meals I send her are the only gifts she’s never thrown away. And I now know to ensure that nothing I send has nuts.
The conversation I had with my father a few days ago has been swirling in my mind, and I’ve come to a decision.
“Posie.” She looks up at me as she takes her first bite.
I pause for a moment to admire her. She’s dressed in all black, and her hair is tied back in a low braid. God, she’s beautiful. “I think we should get married.”
She chokes on her food, and I worriedly push her glass of wine toward her. She finally swallows, then sputters, “S-sorry, what?”
“You and me. Married.”
“Yeah, that’s a no.” She shakes her head in bafflement.
“Why not?”
She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. She puts her cutlery down, saying, “Because unlike you, Dutton, I want marriage and take it seriously. I want to marry a man who will put me and my son above all else. A man who will love me for all my flaws, and believe me, I have a lot. And I want a big gesture, not just some random thought that we should get married.” She pauses. “Why do you want to marry me?”
“My father suggested it,” I begin.
She laughs, and I’m startled that the thought of marrying someone like me is so hilarious to her. I’m not surprised, but I still don’t like hearing her favorite word—no.
“That’s the shittiest reason for marriage I’ve ever heard,” she says, shaking her head. “So, no. We aren’t even dating. And, to be honest, I don’t know what we are, but I think you shouldn’t strain yourself with the idea of marriage because your father suggested it.”
“We can be whatever you want us to be,” I remind her.
“Okay, well, you can be my boy toy.”
“Boy toy?” I raise a brow at her.
“Yes. When I want someone to fuck me to help clear my head, I’ll call you.” She smiles.
I frown. “I do that already.”
“Yes, and you do it very well. It’s why you’ve been promoted from boss to boy toy. Now, let’s eat so we can fuck in your car before I have to get back to my son.” I go to speak, and she holds up her hand. “If you ask me to marry you again, I won’t fuck you.” I close my mouth, realizing I’ve been shot down.
I hate the idea of marriage, so why the fuck did I just ask her to marry me? It goes without saying that I want to protect her and her son, but she might throw her drink in my face if I mention Bentley.
She continues talking about work, and I’m reeling at the sinking feeling in my stomach that I’m of no more value to her than a vibrator. And I don’t know how to communicate what I feel to her because I’m unsure if she feels the same. And if I do tell her, will she push me away?
I remember my father’s words, suggesting I might have to be ready to walk away. But that option is unfathomable to me.
CHAPTER 40
Posie
The food was amazing—so much so that when we walked out, I was tired. My food coma was fully activated.