Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“It?” My brain is burning up, fizzing out, and turning to mush.
“My dress. You’ve ruined it. I have nothing else to wear. All my clothes are dirty.”
She slicks her finger down her cheek where the last remnants of the champagne are drying, then pushes it past my lips. I trace it with my tongue, causing us both to shiver. Her irises barely exist around her blown-out pupils. The sweetness of her skin has nothing to do with the champagne.
“You can wear something of mine. I’ll get the driver to pull over, and I’ll find you a T-shirt and some sweats.”
“You’re going to ask the driver to stop right now? Right this minute?” She withdraws her finger and catches my chin in her hand, blinking her eyelashes so close to my face that they nearly graze my cheek. “Or are you going to help me undress and clean me up?”
“There aren’t any towels. I’m sorry.”
“Towels?” Her laughter is soft and genuine. “No, Luca. With your tongue and mouth. I want you to peel this dress away and taste the mess you made of me off my neck, my collarbones, my breasts, my stomach…”
I’m an idiot. Clearly. I study her dress, which is soaked in the bodice part, but not lower. “There’s nothing spilled below your… um…”
“As I said, everywhere you made a mess. Not the champagne.”
Holy shit. “That’s quite bold,” I rasp.
She sighs, and her hands clench my shoulders. “Luca, I’m trying to be all sexy here and talk a big dirty game. I thought it would be hot for you to lick my sticky skin. Hot for both of us. I thought we left things open-ended at the cottage. Where we were in agreement that there are should-nots and there are fuck-its, and there are situations where they can happily coexist.”
“We’re on our way to see your family,” I say.
“Yes. And I’ll tell them that we’re together.”
I’m going to pass out. I’m going to fall over. I’m going to stroke out and die right here. Round fucking two. Or ten. I can’t even keep track anymore. “Your dad will cut off my nuts and bake them into a pie.”
“Nah. Testicle pie isn’t on our menu.”
How is she so calm about this? “I think he’d make a special exception.” If it were my daughter, I would.
Oh my god. For the love of I’d like to keep my balls and not get them turned into pie, this is going to be a disaster. It’s already a disaster. Why can’t I make myself understand that?
“You don’t know my dad like I do. Or my mom. They’d be shocked, but all they want is for me to be happy.”
“I’m the one who stole the magic and brought the pie curse, leaving a trail of broken hearts and misery in my wake. I don’t think they’d be overly pleased that you left, were gone for a few weeks, and came back with me as your… I can’t even say the word.”
“Paramour? Lover? Boyfriend? Sugar daddy?”
I stifle a groan. “You’re just being provocative now.”
“I was being provocative when I invited you to undress me. Right now, I’m trying to get you to laugh so you don’t faint. Take a breath.”
I try. But I can’t. It’s too hot in here. My stomach and head are both spinning, and my clothes are starting to get damp with sweat. Soon, they’ll look like Dulcie’s dress, slicked down over her perfect curves. I force myself not to look at the way it flattens over the swell of her breasts.
“Do you want to lie down?”
Before I can respond, she’s guiding my head and shoulders and letting gravity take over until I’m on my side. I pick my feet up, drawing my legs in as though the bench isn’t huge and I need to fit.
Dulcie sits beside me and strokes my hair evenly. She doesn’t tremble. She’s comfortable touching me. “I’m into you,” she whispers, “but I’m not into being dishonest. I understand this is crazy, but you have to trust me when I say I know my parents, and I know myself. I want you, Luca, and you want me. I know it’s fucking mind-blowing, and the rest of the world will call us insane. I know it’s taboo. Statistically, we very likely have a shitty chance at making this work, but I’m all about beating the odds. You know what odds we can’t beat? Faking that we don’t have a clue this is happening. I know I’m a terrible actress, and my parents know me well. Two minutes in, and they’re going to notice the way I look at you.”
“Don’t look at me then,” I say. But I’m not serious, and her tone tells me she knows that.
“I can’t. I can’t not look at you. You’re all I want to see. Do you think I wanted to hunt you down and end up liking you? You’re a wrench in the works. Big time. But am I running? Am I trying to pretend like it’s not happening when I know full well it’s only going to hurt both of us and cause far more chaos and disaster in the long run? I can’t not want you. I can’t just turn it off, and I can’t lie to you. Even when I was supposed to be playing someone else, I was really just me with a different name.”