Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“I think just home,” I say.
I see Sherlock’s eyebrows rise in the rearview mirror. He’s surprised, and I can’t blame him. Since when do I go home before ten o’clock on a Friday evening?
But it’s been a rough week at work. Braden and Skye are in New York, and frankly? I’m exhausted. Home, a glass of Wild Turkey, and a little Netflix marathon sounds great.
“Just home,” I say to Sherlock again.
This time he nods.
…
The next night is Saturday, and I usually spend it at a local downtown dance club called Ballroom Blitz. The owners have been known to look the other way if people get a bit physical on the dance floor.
I dreamed about Tessa last night. The funny thing is, it wasn’t even a sexual dream, but when I woke? I felt a pulsing need that was new to me.
I’m feeling horny, but I don’t have any desire to do anything about it. That’s new.
My phone dings. I glance at it.
Apple: I know you ended our mutual fun, but…I’m kind of horny.
She sends me the devil emoji, with horns and all.
I send back a laughing emoji. She texts back.
Apple: Your place or mine?
Apple and I have been friends with benefits—on-again, off-again—since she was barely eighteen. She and her twin sister, Addison Ames, had a huge party at their daddy’s mansion while the parents were out of town, and somehow Braden and I ended up there. We were both working construction at the time for our father, Bobby Black. Addison chased after Braden big time, but Apple and I? We just clicked. Nothing romantic at all. We love each other as friends, but nothing more. And we have a good time in the sack.
I consider it, given my raging hard-on over Tessa, but then I text her back.
Ben: Sorry. I’m busy.
Apple: Are you?
Ben: No.
Apple: It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to me. You okay?
Ben: Yeah. I guess.
Apple: How was your date with Tessa?
Ben: Are you kidding me? That was hardly a date.
Apple: Yeah. I could see it wasn’t from her end, but I saw the way you were looking at her.
Ben: Why shouldn’t I look at her? She’s a gorgeous woman.
Apple: She is. And she’s Skye’s maid of honor. The two of you will be thrown together a lot during the next couple months.
Ben: I suppose so.
Apple: Are you hoping something will happen there?
Am I? Tessa Logan has baggage. Baggage I’m not equipped to handle. So no matter how attracted I am to her—and I’m damned attracted to her—I need to leave well enough alone.
Apple texts back before I think of how to reply.
Apple: Have a good evening. I’ll slake my horniness elsewhere. Ciao!
Ben: Take care.
I shove my phone in my pocket and walk around my rec room. I have a house in a luxury community. I only recently moved there from my downtown Boston penthouse. It’s the quintessential bachelor pad with a sleek contemporary design, lots of glass, steel, and stone accents. My large lawn is home to elegant shrubs and a fountain and koi pond.
The inside is spacious with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the space with natural light. The colors are a masculine mixture of blacks, grays, and whites, accented with bold artwork and high-end furnishings. The place boasts a home theater, a game room, and a fully-equipped gym.
And of course a spacious master bedroom complete with king-size bed, walk-in closet, lounge area, and en-suite bathroom with shower, jetted tub, and infrared sauna.
I love it all.
Apple’s been there many times, and I could have easily accepted her invitation. She’d have come over, and together we could have taken care of business. No different than any other time we screwed.
Except everything has changed.
I met Tessa Logan. Tessa Logan, who I know damned well I should stay far away from.
Only problem?
I can’t get her out of my mind.
Chapter Five
Tessa
It’s Monday morning, and I have a meeting with my boss. I’m back at the office, which freaks me out a little, but I suck it up, put on work clothes, and enter my building by eight o’clock.
All eyes are on me—at least it feels like they are—when I walk into the office suite, as if I’m flashing that neon tattoo on my forehead.
They all know I’ve been gone for a few weeks. That’s no secret.
Most likely they all know why.
I don’t make eye contact with anyone, and I wave hastily to the receptionist after her, “Welcome back, Tessa.”
After grabbing a cup of coffee, I head into my office and fire up my computer.
I go through emails until my meeting at nine.
Then I rise, walk the hallway to my boss’s office, and knock.
“Come in,” Charlotte Peterson says, her gaze never straying from her computer monitor.
Charlotte’s new, and I haven’t worked with her for long. Since I’ve been working mostly remotely, this is the first time we’ve talked in a while.