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)
I want to eat your cookie…
In the back of my mind, I already knew this. The man was so loud when he was inside me, groaning and moaning and screwing me as if he has no control over himself. Aaron Bishop was not built for restraint.
Still, I ask, “Is it?”
“You don’t look at all innocent,” Blaire adds, softer now. “You look like you have a secret.”
“What secret?”
“That you know he wants you.”
It has given me some pause that Aaron Bishop is lavishing me with attention. Courting me. Romancing me. Cooking me dinner. It’s not as if I haven’t had men do this in the past. But those men were nothing like him—not nearly as intense, or driven, or determined. Rough and rugged and my opposite in nearly every way.
Sure, he’s had his nose broken a few times. What professional athlete hasn’t?
And yes, he’s probably missing teeth. So what?
There’s something unfair about the way it all works together—the rough hands, the sharp jawline, the scars near his eyebrow, lip, and chin. He’s not polished. He’s not pretty.
He’s devastatingly good-looking.
At least, to me. Which is why he’s the perfect Hall Pass.
Blaire studies my face as I internally fixate on small details, nudging me when I’m quiet for too long.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You should get going.”
Her arm comes around my middle, and she hugs me close. “Go and have fun and don’t overthink it. You are literally living every woman’s dream, banging your Hall Pass.”
I give a nervous laugh. “You’re right. I should get going.”
Blaire turns me toward her, rests her hands on my shoulders, and gives me a little shake. “Let him be obsessed with you for five seconds without overthinking it.”
“I don’t overthink it.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve already established that you do, so stop denying it.”
My best friend gives me a gentle push toward her door, taking my keys from the table and putting them in my palm.
“Go. Have fun. Have sex. Let him spoon you.”
I laugh again. “Aaron Bishop is not going to spoon me.”
“The man might like to cuddle.”
He doesn’t.
The first night he went down on me, he left immediately after. The second time, we had sex, and I was the one who left. Not because he’d asked me to, but because I was unsure of how to behave, or what to do with myself. It’s not as if he patted the mattress next to him to invite me to stay.
I’d crept out of his penthouse and gone to my car at five in the morning—wondering if the doorman had seen this a thousand times before—and there was a woman in the lobby, stretching for her morning jog.
“All I have to say is…” Blaire exhales. “You two are idiots.”
I scoff but can hardly disagree.
“Go,” she tells me again. “And this time? If you want to stay, you stay.”
SIXTEEN
AARON
Why won’t my sauce thicken?
Fuck.
I’ve tried everything: adding tomato paste, not stirring it too often, letting it simmer.
I grab the wooden spoon again and taste it for the fourth time, licking the end of it as I adjust the heat of the burner. My kitchen is quiet except for the flame beneath my pan and the hum of the city thirty floors below, light struggling to stream in as the sun disappears behind the skyscrapers.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Clean lines. Everything in its place.
Except me.
My phone buzzes against the marble island.
Sutton.
Of course it’s Sutton.
I swipe to answer. “What?”
She doesn’t even greet me. “You are trending.”
I close my eyes. “For what?”
“For being America’s gentle giant, apparently.”
I brace my forearms on the counter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I hear my sister grinning through the phone. “There’s a video of you reading to those kids at the library this afternoon. It’s everywhere. TikTok. Instagram. Someone put soft piano music under it.” She laughs. “Aaron, you were smiling.”
“I was not smiling,” I grumble. “That must have been constipation. And for the record, that was for community relations.”
Sutton cackles. “How did that work out for you?”
I find myself smiling, despite myself. “So great. Zero kids were interested in the story, they were far too busy interrogating me about my ears, nose, and why I don’t have a wife.”
“They did not!” She’s laughing so hard I can hear her trying to breathe. “They’re six.”
“Would I lie to you?” I stir my sauce, adding another dash of salt.
My sister considers this. “Probably not.”
Damn right I wouldn’t lie.
She hums. “Well, it was a fun picture to see. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know, smiling. Happy.”
“I’m always happy.”
Sutton continues giggling. “Dude, all you do these days is scowl and sneer at people. Molly was asking if Uncle Aaron was actually the Grinch in disguise.”
She is so full of shit. “Sounds like my niece is as dramatic as her mother.”
“Wow.” Sutton doesn’t miss a beat. “Attack a child.”