Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Ladies! This is Nadia. She’s a fashion designer from Russia. She’s interested in designing something for your show.”
“I would not charge you,” Nadia hurries to say. “It would just be fun for me to have a project for my portfolio.”
“Oh my God, really?” Amy gushes. She’s so close she’s practically sitting on my lap, which I notice is pissing Nadia off, so I give her a little shove away.
“Hi, I’m Danica,” their leader says, holding her hand out.
“Nadia.” She shakes her hand.
“We’d definitely be interested. We don’t really have a budget for costumes. Most of the dancers put together their own stuff.”
“I understand. It would be free. Just a project for me.”
“Then, you’re hired.” Danica gives her a smile.
“Wow.” Nadia looks at me with big eyes then back at Danica. “That was easy. Thank you.”
“Thank you. What do you need from us?”
“Nothing yet. I’m going to watch your show tonight, and then I’ll start on some drawings.”
Danica grabs a cocktail napkin and writes her phone number on it. “This is my number. You can text me or just come back here on a Thursday.”
“Sounds great. Thank you!”
Amy moves back into my personal space, seemingly oblivious to my disinterest.
I stand to avoid having her try to perch on my lap again. “We’ll be back to watch the show in a couple of hours,” I say.
Nadia slides off her barstool, and I settle my hand on her back to lead her out. As soon as we’re outside, she demands, “Okay, Flynn, how many?”
Nadia
I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous.
I had to tell myself that a hundred times in there.
“What?” Flynn asks innocently as he leads me to the street, but I know he already knows what I’m asking. He carries a guilty vibe I sort of hate.
I don’t want to make him feel guilty. And I definitely don’t want to be like every other girl who gets needy of his attention.
So I force some fake laughter out of my throat. “How many of those girls have you screwed?”
“Two,” he answers.
“Only two? Which ones?”
“Amy, the one who was trying to sit on my lap, and Rebecca, the redhead giving you the evil eye.”
“What about the pixie cut giving me the evil eye?”
“Well, she was going to be next.” Flynn flashes me his apologetic grin, and I melt despite my resolve to not fall in love.
“She’s cute.” I try to be objective.
The truth is, I hate her. With a passion.
On the bright side, my jealousy and irritation completely grounded me in there. At no point was I freaked out, even with everyone standing too close. We’re walking down the busy sidewalk now, passing people. There are cars zooming by, but none of it seems to be a trigger. I’m with Flynn. I’m fine.
“I’m sorry, did it bother you? Maybe I should’ve given you a heads up?”
I give a jerky shrug. “Of course not. We’re friends, remember?”
“Yeah, but friends don’t hurt each other’s feelings.”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” I say immediately. I don’t want to be the kind of girl Flynn runs from. I want to be the one he gets to keep. As a friend, of course.
“I mean, you can have sex with whoever you want. With all of them.”
He frowns, like he doesn’t like me playing it cool. “Well, you’re also my sex partner for the night–I mean, if you want–so I don’t need you to play wingman for me.”
I imagine I hear a trace of irritation in his voice–like he’s annoyed that I’m not more jealous. But that wouldn’t make sense.
“Sorry? I didn’t think I was.”
He is annoyed. I can tell by the little furrow between his brows. He pulls me into an alley and crowds me up against a brick wall. I’m not afraid. Not triggered. I sort of love seeing this side of Flynn. The easy-going swagger is gone.
This version of Flynn seems hungry. A little mad. His hands are on my waist. His lips find my neck, and he bites the skin there.
Still not triggered.
“What are you doing?” I laugh breathlessly.
“I want you riding my dick. Tonight. Tomorrow night. I want to give it to you so good you fight the other girls off me.”
I let out a shocked laugh. “I thought you don’t like clingy.”
“You’re not clingy. You’re you. And I want you to want me.” His open mouth drags across the column of my throat. “I want you to want me so badly you forget everything else. Every shitty thing that ever happened to you.”
Not even his reminder of my imprisonment brings any of the sickness or fear back.
“Let’s go,” I say.
He pulls back to look at my face with a question.
“Show me your magic dick.”
He laughs. “Come to my place?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. I think this could be a get back on the horse right away thing. I would feel so much better if I just knew I could do it. That I’m not completely broken.