Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
A soft gasp escapes before I can prevent it, and Micah catches it, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smirk.
“There’s a cure for that built-up sexual tension,” he murmurs. “Go out with me.”
“Did you not hear my sister? I don’t date.”
“Why?”
Well, if that isn’t a loaded question—one I have no desire to answer. I give him a half-truth instead. “Relationships require the time and attention I don’t have.”
He quirks a brow, waiting for the rest of the explanation, but since that’s all I’m giving him, I start to move my body again to finish the lap dance. It’s the least I can do since—if history is accurate—he’ll be tipping very well afterward.
Surprisingly, Micah isn’t in the audience for my second performance, nor does he book me for another private show. Before he started buying all of my time, I used to be booked solid, so I’m surprised when Violet tells me I have none booked for the evening. But the shock dies down when I get my tips for the night and see that Micah gave me enough for two performances. I should be annoyed that he basically bought himself a private dance even though he couldn’t be here, but if he wants to waste his money to prevent me from dancing in another man’s lap, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It’s late when Ellie and I get back to the hotel room, so we both pass out right after we shower.
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up, but when I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is that Ellie’s awake and sitting in the chair by my bed, fidgeting like crazy and glancing at me like she’s done something wrong.
“What’s up?” I ask, rolling onto my side.
“I did something.”
“Okay.”
“I ran into Micah last night.” Oh, jeez. This can’t be good. “And I saw him go into Lincoln’s office.”
“Ellie, just say whatever the hell you did so I can fix it.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want you to fix it. I wrote him a note, saying you wanted to go out with him and signed your name. Then I had Trixie give it to him on his way out.”
“Ellie!” I bark, sitting up. “What the hell? Now I’m going to have to tell him what you did when he asks me out again and I say no again.”
She swallows thickly, and I groan out loud. “What else did you do?”
“I wrote on the note that you’re available today.”
“Oh my God!”
“Just hear me out,” she says, her eyes pleading. “I know part of the reason you never go out or date is because you won’t leave me alone at our house… not since…” She trails off, unable to say the words—not since we were both almost raped in our own home. “But we’re not there. We’re here, in a safe hotel, where nobody can get to me. And I’m old enough to hang out by myself. I have homework to do, and I can order in room service. I won’t go anywhere or—” Her words are cut off by a knock on the door, and her eyes go wide.
“Is that him?” I hiss.
She nods. “Yeah. I might’ve told him to pick you up at ten o’clock. You’re usually up early, but you woke up late, and I overslept and…”
“Jesus.” I scamper out of bed. “Go answer the door while I put on some clothes!”
She runs out of the room, closing the door behind her, and I dash into the bathroom to see how crazy I look. Not too bad since I showered and removed my makeup last night. I quickly wash my face and slip on a bra so I’m somewhat presentable when I let Micah know my sister is playing games and we’re not actually going on a date.
But when I walk out into the main room and find him standing there dressed in a gray Henley and jeans, holding a bouquet of flowers, the words get stuck in my throat… because holy hell, how is it possible the man looks even more delicious dressed down than he does in his power suits?
And then he smiles—not the cocky, confident smirks I get at the club, but a genuine, almost boyish grin—and butterflies that have no business being anywhere near me flutter in my chest. And even though I have every reason not to go out with this man, suddenly I want to be a normal twenty-four-year-old being picked up for a date by a gorgeous man who’s interested in me, consequences be damned.
“Not that I care what you wear out, but you don’t exactly look like you’re ready for our date,” he says, cutting through my brain fog.
I glance down and groan. I’m wearing the t-shirt I wore to bed with tiny cotton boy shorts. I might’ve thought to put on a bra, but I forgot I’m not wearing any pants.