Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Logan will never trust me.
I will never want to share him.
As for Carter, he’ll probably always be a thorn in Logan’s side because I’ve seen what sort of man Logan is when it comes to caring for his family. I don’t believe for one second that Logan’ll ever turn his back on his twin. Unfortunately, I can’t see a future of mine with Carter in it. He’s a damned nutjob.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and Roman will ship Carter off to some faraway country to do forced coconut labor.
After ten minutes of silence, Logan finally glances at me from behind the wheel. “What happened back there?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.” Why? Because I’d have to admit I was having an erotic dream about him and probably will every night for the rest of my life.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“The plan when we get to the farm,” I reply.
“No thanks.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’s pointless. We have no idea what we’re walking into. They could shoot us, let us go, demand money, or…who knows?”
He’s right. We really don’t have a clue, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan. I’m wearing my glasses, and my phone is going to record everything. It’s my ace in the hole. They won’t want to murder us if there’s a digital recording. But I have a feeling if I tell Logan this is my “big plan,” he’s going to caution me against it. The Gusanos could always torture one of us to get me to erase the footage.
“I have a question,” I say. “Why Mr. Sticky Nuts?”
“You mean why do I do it?”
“I know why you do it—money—but how did you even get started?”
“Ah. That.” He pauses for a long moment as we cruise along in the night, toward what could be the end of this journey for both of us. Yes, it’s going to be dangerous. “I used to date a woman—a photographer. She was into…let’s just say food-related sex.”
“Okay.”
“So, one day she convinced me to let her take some photos.”
“You mean of your penis? With toppings?” I ask.
“I thought they would be just for her, but later I found out she was selling the images as adult greeting cards. She was actually taking orders—custom requests for food items.”
“No.” I can’t believe it.
“Yes. I broke up with her, of course, because she never asked my permission, and trust is everything for me. Then, a few months later, I was laid off from my job managing a very prestigious hotel. I needed money, and I figured I could temporarily sell the cards on my own. No one would ever know since my face was never in the pictures. So I put up a site, advertised on bridal websites under bachelorette party supplies, and the requests came pouring in for customized cards, posing with different food items.”
“Wow. Who would’ve thought there were so many women with that fetish?”
He shrugs. “I consider it more of a novelty. But yes, for some women, it’s their preferred kink.”
“So how did it get to livestreaming?” I ask.
“My mom got sick, and I needed a flexible source of income that would allow me to take care of her. My custom-card business was pulling in very good money, so I expanded. It didn’t go so well until one day I rolled the dice and showed all of me.”
“You mean your face,” I say.
“Yes.”
Now I get it. Because Logan is the whole package. Pun intended. The ripped abs, beautiful blue eyes, sensual lips, thick hair, and, well, his man gear are sexual perfection. Worthy of a statue.
Now comes the difficult question. “Do you have plans to move on?”
“I did,” he growls.
What I really want to know is if he’s giving up on whatever his plans were. “I’m sorry I ruined the oil deal, though I still don’t understand it.”
“I planned to open a restaurant—perhaps even a chain—dedicated solely to sensual, aphrodisiac cuisine.”
“So the oils weren’t going to be for sex?” I ask.
“No. Chef Jean was helping me develop gourmet flavor profiles like white truffle and passion fruit. His name was going to be on the label, and we were going to sell the line in my flagship restaurant featuring romantic, sensual cuisine. The oils would be offered on a special tasting menu with the bread, similar to what olive oil shops do. Eventually, I planned to create an entire line of sensual food products to sell to gourmet shops around the world.”
“Wow. An empire dedicated to pleasure foods.” I think about his plan. It’s actually kind of brilliant. I could see wanting to dine at a place like that with my boyfriend—dimmed lighting, silky, sumptuous finger foods, lots of kissing between courses. “I really love it, Logan.”
“Well, I lost my celebrity chef, and I doubt I’ll be able to convince anyone else to go into business with me because everyone thinks I’m a…what was it you called me in the exposé? Oh, that’s right. A swindling, manwhoring loser.”