Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Marty? What is he doing, taking you back to the future at eight? You can’t see yourself with a Marty.”
“He was nice.”
Kai scrolled through the conversation between Marty and me. “He asked you if you liked tacos. That’s it.”
“And I do! We have something in common. That’s a good sign.”
“Everyone likes tacos. That’s not a reason to date someone. Besides, his name is Marty!”
“I think it’s cute.”
He shook his head and placed his hand against my shoulder. “Close your eyes fast.”
I did as he said, and he continued talking. “Now, pretend you are about to have sex with this guy.”
“This became R-rated quickly.”
“Holly. Imagine it. You’re in bed, and he slides into you—”
My thighs quivered ever so slightly from his words. I swear sweat was pooling at my temple as he continued. “And as he hits your favorite spot, you moan, ‘Oh, yes, Marty! Yes! Right there, Marty, Marty!’”
I burst out laughing and opened my eyes. “Okay, okay. No Marty. But to be fair, I don’t have a sexy time name, either. Holly isn’t sexy.”
“It doesn’t matter with women.”
“What? Sure, it does.”
No, it doesn’t. If he’s doing it right, he’d lock eyes with you as he’s on top, lift your legs to his shoulders, move in close to your ear, and whisper the only two words that matter.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what exactly are those two words?”
He locked his stare with mine. Those brown eyes with flakes of emerald stared at me as if I were the only person who ever mattered in his life. That alone gave me chills. His mouth parted, he leaned in closer toward my ear, his hot breaths falling against my skin, and he whispered in his deep, gruff voice, “Good girl.”
And just like that, I needed a new set of panties.
I felt my cheeks flush as my body heated from two simple yet powerful words.
Good girl.
That man didn’t even touch me; still, that was the best orgasm of my life.
Oh, Kai. Yes, Kai! Please, Kai…more Kai…right there, Kai…
Ugh.
Yeah.
He had a good moaning name.
“Stop being flustered,” Kai said, pulling away from me with an annoying smirk. He knew he fazed me.
“I’m flustered not,” I said, then shook my head at my jumbled words. “I’m not flustered!”
“You are. It’s fine. I was making a point. Now, back to the main topic. Your profile is shit.”
“You aren’t one to pull punches, are you?”
“You should be embarrassed by that profile.”
“I was trying to be upfront and honest about what I’m looking for.”
“Yeah, well, don’t do that. Do the opposite of that. I’m almost amazed at how you can make yourself sound more insane with every passing moment due to this profile.”
I smiled. “I’m gifted.”
“Yeah, that profile explains why you haven’t had any great dates.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Okay, Coach. What exactly am I supposed to put for my profile?”
“Stop calling me Coach.”
“I probably won’t stop doing that, Coach.”
“Whatever. What’s your objective? What do you want from these apps, being honest with yourself?”
“How honest do you want me to be?”
“Completely.”
I sighed. “I want someone to spend the winter with to distract me from my mind. If it leads to something else, great. If it just gets me through to January, splendid.”
He didn’t seem to judge me. Instead, he took my cell phone and began typing. His lips pressed tightly together as his fingers pounded against my phone screen. When he finished, a slight look of pride hit his stare, and he handed the phone back to me.
“There,” he commented.
I looked down at the new bio he had created for me.
Name: Holly
Age: 25 years old
Profession: The Publishing Industry
Bio: Looking for a St. Nick to fill my stocking.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Yup. That’s it.”
“That sounds dirty.”
“Filthy, yeah.”
“No one’s going to swipe on that.”
“They are.”
“But not the guys I’m interested in.”
“It will be the guys you’re interested in,” he argued. “Trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”
He flicked the tip of his nose with his thumb as he stood and walked over to his kitchen. “That’s true, but you still willingly entered a stranger's apartment. What if I was a serial killer?”
“Based on my in-depth obsession with serial killers, you don’t meet the qualifications.”
He opened his fridge and pulled out two beers. He held one in my direction, and I nodded, accepting it. “What do you mean I don’t meet the qualifications?”
As he walked back toward me, he somehow effortlessly opened the beer bottle caps with a flick of his thumb, and that was oddly attractive to the point where my lower region trembled with excitement.
He handed me the bottle, and I tried to shake off the odd feeling of want that shot throughout my system. I cleared my throat and crossed my legs. “You don’t seem weird enough to be a serial killer. Or a loner enough.”
“Are you joking? My brother described how much of a weird loner I am the other night.”