Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Thanks, man. You’re a real one. I’m going to message him in a bit to see if he’s alone, and then you can bounce.”
He nods, looking through his phone. “So he’s basically agreed to keep having sex with you for six months? Why would he do that?”
I scoff at his question. “Because I’m a great fuck, you ass.”
Mads laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that. Is there anything in it for him other than your body?”
“That’s enough right there, thank you very much,” I reply, but I do get what he’s saying. And Mads is someone I talk to, but I’m also big on trust, and I feel like I know Hayes well enough that he wouldn’t want all his business out there. I pause, trying to think of a way to share with Mads without giving away too much. “After what happened with the fuck-face, Hayes isn’t looking for a relationship. He just wants to have some fun, but he’s kinda like you in that he doesn’t want to hook up with just anyone. He has to feel comfortable.” Though it’s different for Mads. Where there’s a self-esteem piece when it comes to Hayes, there isn’t with Mads.
“This guy you hardly know feels comfortable with you? And how did that work that first random blowjob in Seattle?”
My head begins to throb. “It just did. We clicked. It was different for me that first night too. It felt like I knew him.”
Mads takes his attention away from his phone and looks at me with a cocked brow. “So you guys are friends now? Do you talk or just fuck?”
“We talk.” We did last time, at least. And now we’ve been texting some too. The truth is, I want to talk to Hayes even more than we do. “I like hanging out with him, and it’s fun to see him let go, ya know? After all that shit he’s been through, he deserves it.”
He stares at me longer than necessary.
“It’s just sex,” I say, reading his mind.
“But it’s okay if it’s not. Or if it becomes something more.”
“I know. I’ve just never been looking for that, and it’s never found me. I hardly know the guy, and he’s definitely only looking to get some Os out of the deal.” No way it could be more than sex with us. But I must admit, part of my worry about relationships is being used because of my career. I don’t have that concern with Hayes. He couldn’t care less, and it’s not about money with him either.
“Okay,” Mads replies simply, then gets back on his phone. I brush off his questions because really, there’s no reason to pay them any mind.
Me: Are you home?
Hayes: No. I’m working late.
Shit. Well, that sucks. But then…
Me: Are you alone at work?
Hayes: Yes.
He’s not very talkative today. I frown, unease twisting in my gut.
“Hey, can I go ahead and get some time?” I ask Mads. It’s nine here, and I know I’m asking a lot.
“Sure. You have an hour. I’ll go bug Volkov.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one,” Mads teases, leaving the room in his shorts and a pair of socks and nothing else.
I immediately video call Hayes.
“Why are you calling me?” he asks as soon as his face appears on screen. His cheeks are a little red, and his typically very neat brown hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Mostly, though, I notice the distance in his honey-colored eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“What? Yes. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You just seem off. We’re friends. You can talk to me.”
He does that cute thing where his nose wrinkles up, and I wish he were here so I could kiss the tip of it. He clearly didn’t expect me to tell him that he can talk to me, and that makes my stomach clench. It reminds me of what he said, about not having friends for most of his life, and damn do I want to change that for him, want him to have someone who is there for him.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
There definitely is, but I feel like I can judge his moods already, and he’s not in the headspace to talk to me. But maybe if I can get him to relax… “Take off your clothes.”
His mouth drops open, his eyes like cartoon eyeballs about to pop out of his head. Of course, I laugh.
“What’s so funny? You like riling me up.” He shifts in his seat. “I’m at work. I can’t take my clothes off here.”
“You did it the first night we met.”
“That was different.”
“Why?” I ask with a smirk.
“Because it was,” he says, flustered. He seems to hesitate, then asks softly, “What are we going to do? If I did take off my clothes. Not that I’m going to, but I am alone, and my office has a door with a lock…what the hell am I saying? Yes, my office has a door. You mess with my head.”