Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
“Christ . . .” Graham’s eyes close as his fingers come to rub his temples.
“Think it over, and let me know.” I stand, picking up my clutch and gift bag. We haven’t eaten—hell, we haven’t even ordered—but there’s no way I’m going to be able to sit across the table from Graham and force down food after a conversation like this one.
It’s time to make my exit and hope I’m leaving with the upper hand.
I pause at the door leading out of the patio to wave goodbye and find Graham watching me with that new, not-entirely-safe look in his eyes again, and I shiver.
Part of the shiver is fear. What if this ruins things between us? Sure, I have other friends, but no one I’ve known as long or cared about as much as Graham. What if he says no and decides never to talk to me again?
Then another voice in my head whispers, And what if he says yes? Are you ready for that, Caroline Jessica Murphy?
But as I flee the restaurant and head out onto Amsterdam Avenue, the electrified feeling lifting the hair at the back of my neck has nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with possibility.
4
Graham
What. The. Hell?
I rub my finger against my ear as I wander through Central Park in a daze an hour later.
Maybe I’ve slipped into an alternate reality, like in Fight Club, only I’m now playing the part of a sex tutor after-hours. And the first rule of Sex Club? When the woman you’re supposed to look out for like a little sister propositions you, SAY NO.
Right?
How can I possibly say yes?
My job is to scowl at potential suitors, to tell her no one is good enough for her, and to make it clear she should never settle for some schmuck who regifts candles to lubricate the path to sex.
You would lubricate the path in a much classier fucking way . . .
And Devil Graham is back in a big way.
She needs you. You’re the only man for the job.
No, Devil Graham, you are wrong. I can’t be the guy who looks out for her during the day, and her sex tutor at night.
Look how well those split roles worked for the narrator in Fight Club. I would rather stay out of the mental ward, thank you very much.
“Get out of the way, Wall Street.”
I snap my gaze up as a speed-demon jogger tears by, barking at me. Huh. Apparently, I’m walking in the fast lane on the running path. Well, excuse the hell out of me.
I raise a hand in a mock-friendly wave, calling out, “No problem, man. I’ll just be the guy passing you tomorrow.”
But I don’t run in Central Park. I’m a Hudson River Greenway guy. Besides, wearing a button-down shirt doesn’t make me look like a Wall Street douchebag. I’m just a guy dressed nicely for brunch with a friend I’ve known since she was a kid, who wants me to teach her sex tricks.
As I walk east across the Great Lawn, I try again to make sense of CJ’s desire to learn how to please a man. Something is off with that. It should be the other way around. Some lucky bastard should be busting his ass—and everything else—to please her.
My dick insists he and I could teach her how a real man treats a woman. But my dick isn’t the best barometer. Dicks are notoriously untrustworthy. A dick knows one thing—it wants to go home. All the time. Home being the promised land between a woman’s soft, welcoming thighs.
That’s why I can’t trust my dick to make this call, even though the prospect of sweet, funny, clever CJ asking me—no, begging me—to fuck her is a bigger turn-on than I would have imagined possible.
And that’s the problem. I need to get my head in the game and put my libido on the sidelines. As I walk, I focus on the best boner-killer known to heterosexual man.
Another man.
Yep. Works like a charm.
Down-boy achieved in seconds as I think of Sean.
We were raised on the proverbial different sides of the tracks, but none of that mattered when we interned at the same company in high school. Hockey fans through and through, we connected over a shared devotion to the sport, as well as our drive to conquer the business world. Hell, we hatched the idea for our company back when we were dirty-minded teens. But we stuck with it, all through college and beyond, launching Adored and turning it into a success.
He guarded our company like a bear, watching over it with unwavering devotion.
He was like that with his sister too. That was his style. He had the overprotective brother thing going in spades. Their mom died when they were both young, and when their dad moved to Greece, all roads to CJ’s social life went through Sean. At six-foot-three, with a bruiser body and a gruff exterior, no one wanted to fuck with him. It’s no surprise, I suppose, that she didn’t date much in Manhattan—not when she was living down the hall from someone who could put the fear of God into other men with one look.