Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
But trust me when I say: I want to be the kind of girl who knows how to flirt with men who look like Aaron Bishop. I want to be the kind of woman who can make a man hard with the turn of a phrase…
I’m just…
Not that.
But I’m desperate to be.
I exhale an unsteady breath.
Juliette: You can, I just… I…
Aaron: Is it fucked up for me to find this entire conversation adorable?
Juliette: Not at all. In fact, ask me something personal. Let’s go crazy.
Aaron: Personal like… What are you wearing? Is that a good start?
I glance down at my bra and underwear, thankful it’s not a baggy T-shirt and joggers so I don’t have to lie.
Juliette: Bra and underwear
Aaron: Oh? Please describe, in great detail
Juliette: White lace bra and matching thong—they matched my dress.
Aaron: How lacey…??
Juliette: Um. Sheer.
Aaron: See through?
Juliette: Very.
Aaron: Shit, Juliette… same as the bra you had on when I was going down on you? With the little bow between your breasts?
Juliette: No bows. Tiny velvet polka dots.
Aaron: Would I be able to see your nipples?
My heart is racing as I glance at myself in the mirror, eyes skimming down my body.
Juliette: Yes.
Aaron: Jesus—this is making me want to drive across town and put my head between your legs.
It’s making me want the same thing.
Juliette: This isn’t going to make it easier to fall asleep.
Aaron: Why sleep??? Do you have a vibrator?
I do.
Blaire gave it to me because she says I’m sexually repressed, and I need to “get the lead out.” Sadly, I don’t use it very often. In fact, I had to google how to power the dang thing on.
Juliette: I do…
Aaron: Are you going to use it on yourself tonight?
Juliette: Should I???
Aaron: FUCK yes
Juliette: Lol don’t sound so sure. You should say more to convince me
Aaron: Baby, if I was there, I would use it on you FOR you… all you’d have to do is lay there and let me do the work.
Juliette: Are you a GIVER Aaron Bishop?
Aaron: Goddamn right I am.
Juliette: I did get that feeling when you went down on me and then… you know. Left without getting yourself off.
Aaron: Yeah, about that.
Aaron: I shouldn’t have walked out like that but on the other hand, I thought it was a one-night stand and I was never going to see you again. So I wasn’t thinking.
Aaron: I’m sorry.
Juliette: I know you were having a horrible night so I tried not to take it personally—but I did also wonder if I was the problem. Maybe you didn’t find me, you know. Sexy or whatever.
Aaron: It was shitty of me, but since I didn’t know you, I didn’t overthink it.
Juliette: You don’t strike me as someone who does things halfway.
Aaron: I’m not. Never have been. Except when I’m having a one-night stand.
Juliette: Is that what you thought it was?
Aaron: For sure. Was your ego bruised?
Juliette: Yes, a baby bit.
Aaron: Ha. You’re too sweet to have an ego
Juliette: Not true.
Aaron: Prove it.
Juliette: Prove I’m not too sweet? How???
Aaron: I don’t know—when you use that vibrator on yourself later, send me a video of you touching yourself…
Is he being serious? That’s so…
Personal!
I don’t know if I can do it. I might not be that sweet, but I am not that brave.
I’ve never so much as sent a man a selfie of myself in anything other than a T-shirt.
Juliette: I’m not brave enough for that.
Aaron: Oh honey, I bet you’d surprise us both.
Baby.
Honey.
The endearments slide into my cerebellum, down my core, straight into my nether regions, pooling in a warm heat between my thighs.
TEN
AARON
Juliette never did send me a video of herself getting off.
Not surprising, but somewhat disappointing, as I never shy away from a pair of nice boobs—but at least she’s proved to be consistently cutesy.
I also appreciate knowing she’s not that easy. She’s not showing off her pussy to anyone who asks, even though she’s obviously interested.
Unlike some people.
My helmet is at my feet, phone in hand, ass planted on the bench as my thumb hovers over the keypad. I’ve been sitting like this for at least three minutes while the rest of the guys finish removing their gear round me—tape ripping, blades scraping, laughter echoing in the locker room.
I barely hear any of it because Bailey’s name is on my screen.
Again.
Bailey: Can we talk? I need closure.
She needs closure?
Bailey: Please, I need you to hear me out.
Bailey: It won’t take long.
She is relentless.
It’s irritating.
The fucking nerve of this woman. Closure? She has the nerve to ask me for closure when she was the one cheating and sneaking around?
I lock my phone.
Unlock it to stare at her messages again.
Glance up in time to see Declan pretending not to stare at me. When our eyes lock, and I glower in his direction, he immediately looks away, the kid who got busted with his hand in the cookie jar and powdered sugar on his mouth.