Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Is that healthy? Probably not. Does it make my dick twitch? Abso-fucking-lutely.
“But you didn’t. You bid a thousand dollars on me instead.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. Yeah, I can’t believe he did that either.
“I guess I own you now,” he says.
“You already did. Want to know a secret?”
“I think I’m due that, at the very least,” he jokes, and I chuckle.
“You’re the one I wanted to go on a date with anyway.” Maybe I didn’t realize it until I was standing on that stage, but it’s true. After last night, hell, the past few weeks, spending time with him, the way he helped when I was feeling like shit because of my dad…the way he fucks me… I’ve been falling for him for a while. “So you didn’t have to waste a thousand dollars on me.”
“It goes to a good cause, so it’s not really wasting.”
He’s right, and I love that he’s the one to mention it. “Good point.”
He doesn’t respond right away, and then his hand is on my neck. I shiver at the touch. God, I love the feel of him, how dominant and fucking sexy he is. “You’re mine,” he says, and though it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him yes, I’m his, I don’t. Not yet.
“You have to do one thing for me first,” I tell him.
“Who said you get to make the rules?”
Fuck. Why is that so hot? Why does everything he says or does feel like so much more? “Just this once,” I tell him. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
“Unfortunately, I seem to like everything about you.”
I laugh. “Unfortunately?”
“Eh. It’s not ideal.”
No, it’s really not. “But I like it.”
“I like it too,” he says. “What do you want?”
“Well, I know you just paid a thousand dollars to date me and everything, but if we’re going to be boyfriends now—”
“Who said anything about boyfriends?”
“You. I’m positive that’s what you said. It came out something like, Dax, you’re the hottest, sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Will you do me the honor of being my boyfriend? And I was like, eh, I guess.”
He bites back a grin. “Why don’t I remember that?”
“Sounds like a you problem.” I shrug. “Anyway, like I was saying, since we’re boyfriends and you paid to date me, don’t you think you should at least ask me on a proper date? You kinda have to now.”
He smiles, and again, I love being the one who can make him do that, for being a place where Miles can feel comfortable and just be himself…and be happy.
“Go on a date with me.”
“That didn’t sound like a question,” I tease.
He leans in, presses his mouth to the corner of mine, his hand tightening on my throat. He lingers, doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask. This isn’t easy for him, so I wait, maybe even hold my breath and hope it happens. “Go on a date with me.” He grimaces for a moment like the rest is even harder to get out. “Please.” Another kiss.
“Yes,” I say, and when he kisses me again, I feel the smile on Miles’s lips, taste it, revel in it.
Miles Tanner wants to date me. And we’re maybe boyfriends? I don’t know if he took all that as seriously as I meant it. I have no idea what the fuck is going on here, but I want it, want it all, and I hope like hell he does too.
25
Miles
Wait, I have a boyfriend?
The hell?
That’s not me. I don’t do relationships. I fuck, and I’ve always enjoyed leaving it at fucking, even when it’s been a repeat.
It’s different with Dax, though. Hard to deny that with the way I made a spectacle of myself at the auction, resulting in one hell of a panic attack. Still, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but I know it’s because he was there. Not that Tatum wasn’t helpful, but he’s no Dax. No one is.
And of course, Tatum has given me the appropriate amount of hell. “I knew you liked someone! Dax Armstrong! That fucking must be unhinged.”
As amused as he’s been about it, the whole auction thing has sent me into a bit of a tailspin, so I do that thing you’re supposed to do when shit happens; that thing Dad was getting on my case about—I meet with Shera, the student counselor. She’s pretty young—in her twenties, I’m guessing—and she’s wearing a periwinkle blouse and a friendly smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miles.”
Yeah, I’m here, seated on the sofa across from her desk, but I’m not happy about it. Desperate times and all that.
I honestly don’t know why the hell I came here, of all places. I’ve made a few appointments here before, especially when Dad would press me. One time I made it to the door, then backtracked and bailed. It’s not that I haven’t talked to anyone after what happened to Mom, but I didn’t like the way therapists poked around. Mostly because I was always afraid they’d hit on something I’d rather keep hidden. And if Shera so much as pushes in a way I don’t like, I’m bolting.