Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Sheesh,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere this fancy. If I’m being totally real, I barely ever go out to eat. Manhattan is ridiculously expensive and I barely make enough to cover rent. So I usually just scrape up what I can to cook for cheap.”
“If we hadn’t sworn off dating, this is where I’d tell you how much I would spoil you. If you were mine,” he added.
Those words made a prickle of heat swim across the surface of my skin. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was yours?”
His smile appeared with agonizing slowness and his eyes flickered with heat. “Are you asking about our hypothetical bedroom encounters, or the other stuff?”
I could feel myself blushing. “Both?”
“Well, I know it would take me several days to think of anything but having you all to myself. I’d keep you in bed until you were too spent to walk. Then I’d bring you breakfast in bed and we’d do it all over again.” His smile had faded to a shadow, and the weight of his words was hitting me with a palpable punch. From the way he spoke, I didn’t think he was bullshitting me. I could hear the desire and longing in his tone. “And when I wasn’t with you in bed, I’d want to spoil you. I would take you wherever you wanted. I’d let you do all the things you’ve wished you could but thought you shouldn’t because of money.”
I worked my lips to the side, studying him. “Is that what you do with all your girlfriends? Hypothetical or not.”
“No,” he said plainly. “I’ve never wanted to spoil a woman like I would spoil you. The rest of them? I guess I worry they want to be spoiled. Like they are only with me because they’re hoping I’ll buy them the world. So I don’t. And then I wait to see if that scares them off.”
“Does it?”
“Sometimes. But usually I think it’s just me.”
I found the plainness of his admission oddly heartbreaking. I wanted to say something to him. Something sweet and reassuring, but the words failed me.
Dean seemed to take my silence to mean the game was over. He picked up where we’d been. “Anyway, fancy places like this get old after a while. The really expensive restaurants are generally more about the presentation and experience than the food. Don’t get me wrong. The food is usually good. But sometimes the thought of getting put through the whole production is just too much. I’d rather have a greasy cheeseburger and fries from a takeout place.”
“Hmm,” I said, studying him as I lifted a piece of the bread. It was warm, soft, and still steaming. I gave it a dip in the oil, tasted it, and couldn’t help moaning a little. It was salty, sweet, savory, and there was this amazing aftertaste of herbs and the fattiness of the oil. It was going to be a challenge not to embarrass myself and eat the entire loaf of bread like a glutton in front of him.
“Hmm,” he agreed. He tore off a little piece of bread and chewed it, hardly seeming interested. At least he hardly seemed interested in the bread, that was. His eyes were fixed on me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“So where’s the punchline?” I asked.
“Punchline?”
“Yeah. Up until this dinner, you’ve been going out of your way to make me uncomfortable and tease me. Everything has seemed like a game to you. Now all of a sudden you’re trying to be nice, sweet and understanding? It’s some kind of prank, right?”
“It’s no prank. Am I not allowed to take a break from being a pain in your ass? It’s exhausting, actually. Maybe I just wanted a nice, relaxing evening.”
I smiled over the rim of my wine. Like the bread, it was absolutely delicious. “I’m not buying it.”
“Okay. Maybe I’m only being nice because I’d like to get you on my side of the bed tonight. Would it be easier to believe that?”
“Sort of. But I don’t get the impression I’m your type.”
He tilted his head, eyes flickering in the candlelight as amusement played across his features. “What makes you say that?”
“You seem like a guy who probably wants the fun girl. Someone who never says no to something crazy. Someone who would get up and sing karaoke without hesitation. You know, someone like my sister.”
“And you’re saying you aren’t that girl?”
I snorted. “I once went to Ireland as a kid and spent nearly the whole trip in our hotel room reading books. Why, you ask? Because I was too scared I wouldn’t be able to understand people’s accent and I’d make a fool of myself. I’m practically allergic to adventure. Fun gives me a rash.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been with the kind of girl you’re talking about. Sure. But all of those relationships ended in flames. Maybe I’m curious what it would be like to date the girl who gets a rash from fun.”