Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
"Have you ever wanted a client?"
"I've found clients attractive," I say. "I've gotten lost in their description of sex and found it appealing. But I've never wanted a client that way. There's something about the relationship that makes it feel wrong. Not just morally, but sexually too, I guess. I'm entrusted to care for them and caring for someone just isn't sexy." I bite my lip. "If that doesn't make me seem too cold."
"Because you don't want to screw your clients?"
"Because I didn't like caring for my husband," I say.
Something in his gaze shifts. Away from sexy, to something serious. "Did he have health issues?"
"No more than anyone else," I say. "It was more the typical domestic labor. Sure, I enjoyed cooking for the two of us, but that was it. I didn't find any joy in cleaning after. Or doing his laundry. Or paying the bills. I didn't feel any satisfaction in keeping a home."
"Do most people?" he asks.
"I do, when it's for myself," I say. "When it's my space."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, in the abstract," I say. "But it's not great for partnership."
"Did you always feel that way?" he asks. "Or only once things were hard?"
"I don't know." It was worse, when things were hard, I guess. I've always enjoyed getting things done, and keeping the space tidy, but I've never really wanted people in my space. Only very close friends and family. And even then, I want my alone time after a while. "I suppose I liked some things about sharing a life, at first. Having company. Decorating the house together. Going to the grocery store and wandering the aisles. It turned chores into a fun shared activity."
"Sounds like a partnership."
It does.
"Maybe you didn't like being put to work."
I didn't. "Something tells me your mom won't like that."
"She might not admit it, but she'd understand it," he says. "Things weren’t always perfect with my father. She acts like they were, now that he’s gone, but they fought plenty. The had hard times."
"Did she talk about it?"
"No, she never let on, but I could tell. He was…traditional. She was too. She still is, in some ways."
She doesn't let on to any lack of faith in the institution, but she doesn't seem interested in firm gender roles either.
Or is that part of Cynthia's problem? Maybe Daniel expects her to stay home to raise her kids. Which is great—if that's what she wants.
If it's not—
It's hard for women who want children. They don't have any great options. Either they focus on their careers, and they're criticized as bad moms, or they focus on their kids, and they're called gold diggers. Worse, they're left totally dependent on their husbands.
”We can talk more about my parents’ marriage.” He looks at me. "But I imagine that’s not what you’re here to do…"
No. It's not. And it's not even lunch time and it's already been a long day. I might as well enjoy a little something. "We, uh… we actually have very compatible fantasies."
"Oh?" He raises a brow go on and shifts into that other mode. The flirty one.
It feels different this time.
More honest.
I can't say why. Maybe it's the curiosity in his eyes. Maybe he really does want to know what I want.
"That's one of mine… being watched," I say.
"Then please." He motions to the mirror in front of the bed. "Take the floor. I bet you put on a hell of a show."
Chapter Twenty
Romeo
The way Ivy bites her lip is sexy as sin. There is something about her mix of shyness and confidence that drives me out of my fucking mind.
She knows so much, yet she's experienced so little in reality.
Maybe that is what makes me a cliche. I want a woman who is somehow a virgin and a whore. But fuck if I'm going to analyze it at the moment.
"That's not quite how it goes…" She plays with the robe. "The way I imagine it. It's not an active show, exactly."
"Oh." My brows rise. My voice lifts. My entire body perks. I want the details. All of them. Right away. "How does it go?"
"I'm alone. Or at least, I think I am. And I'm touching myself, thinking of someone I want. They notice and they keep watching. Start to touch themselves because it turns them on so much."
That sounds hot as fuck. "Where do you want me to start?"
"Logic ruins everything, doesn't it?" A laugh spills from her lips. It breaks the sexual tension in the air, but it sets the mood too. Because we can laugh at each other. Because I know she's not expecting perfection. "Maybe… you could be in the corner…" She motions to the desk. "Like you're working. Like you're in another room, and you only have a view from the corner."
"What if the closet was another room?"