Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Absolutely,” I say. Holy fuck, Kat’s nipples look amazing in that tank top. I look away, my cock tingling.
Kat picks up her phone. “Oh, I’ve got a text from Sarah. She says one of the guys in the meeting looks like he could stuff her into the trunk of his car and she’d never be heard from again.” Kat chuckles to herself. “Oh, shoot, I’ve got another missed call from my friend Hannah. I should give her a quick call. She’s probably got a question on this big account she’s handling for me at work. Do I have time to make a quick call? Super-duper quick?” She bats her eyelashes.
Henn nods. “Yeah, really quick. But you might have to get off if Jonas calls and gives us the signal.”
“Okay. Like lightning.”
I can’t peel my eyes off her. I’ve never seen her first thing in the morning before. She’s turning me on. Especially after what happened last night: after reading my application, she opened her door, wordlessly hugged me, and led me to her bed; then, without a word, the two of us lay down together, our bodies pressed close, our arms wrapped around each other, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
It was such a simple interaction, but I have no idea how to put into words how much it meant to me. The woman had just read my sick-fuck fantasies and she serenely fell asleep in my arms. Whatever she plans to say to me about that application at some point in the future will be icing. The way she fell asleep in my arms last night? That was the cake.
Kat dials Hannah’s number and presses the phone to her ear.
Her eyes drift to me as she waits for Hannah to pick up.
“How’d you sleep, babe?” she asks softly, the phone pressed to her ear.
My entire body buzzes. Has Kat called me ‘babe’ before? I don’t think so. But if so, she’s never said it quite like that.
“Good,” I say, my skin electrifying. “You?”
“Good.” She beams a smile at me. “Really, really good.”
Holy shit. I feel high. With one brief and seemingly innocuous exchange, the woman just confirmed exactly what’s going on inside her head: she doesn’t think I’m a sick fuck.
Kat’s attention is drawn to her phone. “Hi, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken,” she says. “So what’s up?” She listens for a minute. “Oh, no worries. Just tell them we’ll do a Twitter campaign instead—that’s their demographic, anyway. We’ll make lemonade out of lemons. No problem. We can set up a live chat with a hashtag.” She pauses. “Oh, I dunno, how ’bout hashtag-I’ve-got-your-pulled-pork-right-here?” She winks at me. “And then we’ll select a winner,” she continues. “I’d say a gift card. Yeah. That sounds good. But I can talk to them if you prefer—I’ll probably be free later today to chat.” She laughs. “Aw, anytime. Thanks for picking up all the slack while I’ve been gone.”
Henn and I look at each other. The woman’s a PR badass; there’s no doubt about it. I love seeing her like this, kicking ass and taking names.
“Yeah, I am, as a matter of fact,” Kat says into the phone, her eyes drifting to me. “Mmm hmm. Actually, yeah, he is.” She beams a huge smile at me.
Henn rolls his eyes and shoots me a smirk.
“Funny you should ask that, Banana,” Kat says, her eyes leaving me and landing on Henn. “He does. And he’s the coolest guy you’ll ever meet. Actually, he’s a fucking genius.”
Henn shifts his weight.
Kat suddenly extends her phone toward Henn. “Henn, my adorable and funny friend Hannah Millikin wants very much to say hello to you.”
“To me?” Henn asks, his face turning red.
Kat laughs. “Yup. Come on, Henn. YOLO.” She holds out the phone again, insisting he take it. “Hannah’s the coolest girl you’ll ever talk to, I promise. A total goofball. Loyal. Smart. Cute. Funny. The list goes on and on. Nothing to lose by just saying hi.”
Henn waffles.
“Oh, and did I mention?” Kat says. “She got brown hair and glasses.” She winks.
Henn takes the phone, his cheeks rising with color. “Well, this isn’t awks or anything,” he says into the phone. “Hello, Hannah Millikin. I’m Peter Hennessey—but everyone just calls me Henn.” He pauses to let Hannah talk and then chuckles. “Yeah, she did kinda make it sound like your idea, actually.” He laughs again. “She’s a sneaky one, for sure.” He pauses. “Um, you know, just working... I’m a computer specialist—a freelance programmer.” He clears his throat and listens for a moment. “L.A., New York, Toronto, Denver—I go wherever the job takes me, and I can work from anywhere, so I travel a lot, but I mostly live in L.A. in a crappy-ass apartment. Where are you? Oh, yeah, duh. Kat just said she works with you. Yeah, sure, I get up there sometimes—I love it there. Good salmon.” He pauses. “Me, too,” he finally says. “Indubitably.” He grins broadly at something Hannah’s saying. “Yeah, I hope so. Thanks.” He blushes and hands the phone back to Kat. “Here you go.”