Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“Rhy.” I pressed my stomach and breasts against his bare back, lying on top of him.
“Hmm?” His cheek was pressed against my pillow, and he was half-asleep. He never stayed over when we hooked up. It was one of those invisible lines we refused to cross.
“Are we going to stop…you know, this, when the arrangement is over?”
“You mean fucking?” he asked groggily.
I smiled, and I knew he could feel my cheek stretching against his skin when I did. “Yeah.”
“Not if it’s up to me.” He flipped himself over onto his back, hugging me so I wouldn’t fall off the bed. We were now in a woman-on-top position, my hands on his pecs. His fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. His eyes met mine—green, blue, and mesmerizing. “But I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m quitting the D train.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed, kissing my nose. “Good to hear, because I wasn’t planning on stopping, you know, that part of the arrangement.”
I licked my lips, trailing a finger over his collarbone. “Are you still going to babysit Grav when I go to the Taylor Swift show in September?”
He offered me a scandalized look. “Duh, dude. What the fuck? She’s my girl.”
There was something about the way he said it—she’s my girl—that made me struggle not to cry.
“I’m also down for the occasional babysitting gig. You know, here and there.” He smoothed my hair back gently. “But you’ll have to figure out a permanent arrangement. I’m going to be neck-deep in working on the app. Probably going to sleep at the office most nights.”
“I know,” I said distractedly.
Rhy elevated one eyebrow. “Have you spoken to Cherrie at all? Let her know your decision?”
“Not yet.”
“You need to if you want to secure Grav’s spot.”
“Still thinking about it,” I said vaguely, scurrying up to wrap myself in a robe.
I was no longer on the fence about the preschool itself—it was amazing, and it had crazy-good reviews on Yelp out of hundreds of reviewers. My issue was the tuition. I’d saved a really good amount of money, but I knew I’d forever be playing catch-up with the fee once my savings ran out.
I padded to the bathroom to brush my teeth, with Rhy stretching out on the edge of the bed before following me inside. When he entered the en suite, his cock was still at half-mast from sex a few minutes ago, and he was scratching the side of his ass, and it struck me that this was what domestic bliss looked like. Only we weren’t a real couple, and he was way out of my league even now, on the cusp of being a millionaire but not quite there.
“Hey.” He hugged me from behind while I brushed my teeth. Our eyes met in the mirror.
“Hi,” I murmured around white foam and the head of the toothbrush.
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Why would I be mad?”
It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t afford anything in this god-awful city. Maybe Tucker could babysit Gravity for some of the time I needed for work. Yesterday, when he came to see her, he wasn’t completely awful. Still cold and detached, but they watched TV together and ate Italian wedding soup in silence, and she seemed cool about it. Not rabid like she was with Rhyland, but definitely comfortable.
Rhyland shrugged, burying his face in my throat. “I don’t know. Just checking. Do you want me to leave?”
I should say yes. We’d already had sex twice today. It was late, and I’d see him tomorrow morning anyway for our Texas trip.
“No,” I heard myself say.
“Do you want to have sex again?” He grinned cheekily against my skin.
“Yeah, in a little bit.” I spat foam into the sink, flicking the water on. “If you’re up for it.”
“I’m always up for it.” He thrust his now fully erect cock between my ass cheeks. “All puns intended.”
I was wrong.
I wasn’t a sex addict.
I was a Rhyland addict.
DYLAN
Grav was equal parts excited and frightened for our plane ride. I couldn’t blame her. There was something deeply unsettling about entering a metal tube someone else was in charge of that soared through the sky. She’d been on airplanes before, when we went to visit Row and Cal, but back then, she was too young to understand what was happening.
I dutifully distracted her with snacks and Bluey—every parent’s emergency kit for the distressed child.
Throughout the flight, Rhyland looked right at home on the private plane, working on his laptop and occasionally goofing around with Grav. It was a reminder that our lives weren’t the same. Not really. In a few days, he’d return to his glamorous existence with his billionaire friends, and I’d keep busting my ass in a bar to make ends meet and bickering with a good-for-nothing ex about supervised visits with our daughter.