Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Damned grape spoils everything,” I say. “I’d totally get myself stabbed if it weren’t for the damned grape.”
Sarah laughs.
“And Josh meeting my family is off the table, too, at least for a while. At this point, that would be a recipe for disaster.”
Sarah makes a sympathetic face.
“So other than those two ideas, what other ‘external event’ could I arrange to make Josh realize he loves me and finally wants to go ‘all-in’?” I ask. “Obviously, me being pregnant with his spawn didn’t do the trick.”
“I dunno,” Sarah says. “It’s gotta be something that makes Josh realize you love him completely—like, you know, unconditionally. If you can convince him he’s completely safe with you, no matter what, then maybe he’ll feel like he can finally let go and love you the same way in return.”
“Good idea in concept,” I say. “But I have no idea what that ‘something’ would be.” I bite the inside of my cheek and look out the car window. “Hmm.”
“Hmm,” Sarah agrees. “Can you think of something that would make him feel—”
“I’ve got it.” I sit up in my seat, adrenaline flooding me. “I know exactly what to do.”
“Well, that was fast. What is it?” Sarah asks.
A demonic smile spreads across my face.
“What?” Sarah asks. “Oh my God—what?”
“I can’t tell you,” I say. “It’s too personal. But trust me, it’s something that’s gonna make Josh realize I’m one hundred percent all-in—and also that I’m the woman of his dreams.”
“You’re smiling devilishly,” Sarah says.
“Because I’m thinking something devilish.”
“Gimme a hint,” Sarah says.
“Oh, little Miss Sarah Cruz, you couldn’t handle it, trust me—your head would explode.”
Sarah makes an adorable face. “God, you scare me,” she says.
I look out the window of Sarah’s car again, my skin sizzling and popping with electricity, a happy smile dancing on my lips for the first time in a week. Yes. I know exactly what to do to coax Joshua Faraday to finally let go completely. I’ve just got to make him see he’s absolutely safe with me, in every conceivable way—that I love every little molecule of him, no matter how perverted.
My smile broadens.
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But in the case of my beloved sick fuck, Joshua William Faraday, I’m quite certain the entry point into his tortured heart is through an organ just a tad bit lower on his anatomy.
Fifteen
Josh
I think Kat was put on this earth to torture me.
Goddammit, I don’t just want her. I don’t just miss her. I crave her like a drug.
I look up from the report I’m writing on my laptop and rub my forehead. Fuck, I can’t concentrate worth a shit. I should have finished this stupid report three days ago, but I can’t seem to trudge through it. I peer at my screen, just to see if whatever the fuck I’ve been writing for the past hour makes a lick of sense. For all I know, I’ve been writing, “Goobledoobledabbah” over and over. Fuck me.
I lean back in my chair.
Why’d I have to give in to my addiction and call Kat two hours ago? I thought hearing her voice would make me feel better, maybe take the edge off the pain I’ve been feeling all week, but all it did was torture me and make me crave her even more.
I blame 3 Doors Down, the bastards. “Here Without You” came on just as I was texting with Kat about how depressed Colby is, and the next thing I knew, I was texting Kat she could bring a smile to any man’s face, and then, right after that, hastily pressing the button to call her, stupidly throwing an entire week’s worth of self-imposed Kat-rehab out the fucking window.
“Theresa,” I say, looking at my longtime personal assistant across the room. She’s standing in my kitchen, cataloging a bunch of stuff that’s about to be loaded onto the moving truck out front. “You got any Ibuprofen?”
“Of course.” Theresa rummages into her purse and hands me a couple pills and a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Make it four,” I say.
She hands me two additional pills.
“Thanks.” I swallow the pills and look down at my computer.
“You’ve got a headache?” Theresa asks.
“I’m fine,” I say. But I’m a liar. I’m not fine. In fact, I’m a wreck. And I’ve been a fucking wreck all week long, ever since I dragged my sorry, rejected, confused ass out of the hospital and onto the next flight back to L.A. I was so shattered by Kat’s rejection of me that night, so overwhelmed at the bomb she’d dropped on me, I made a decision that very night to quit her once and for all. If she’s my addiction, I thought, then I’ll just send myself to motherfucking rehab.
Of course, I knew it’d be hard to quit a fucking unicorn, especially a unicorn tinged with a delicious streak of evil—a unicorn who happens to be the most exciting and incredible woman I’ve ever been with—a unicorn who sets the gold standard for turning me on—a unicorn who laughs like a dude and thinks like a terrorist and has a sexy little indentation in her chin that drives me wild. But I truly thought I could do it. I’m a fucking Faraday, after all, and, as my dad always used to drill into me, “Faradays never fucking quit.” (Other than when they blow their brains out or drive off a bridge, I guess).