Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“Rhy…” Dylan said softly, her hand palming my shoulder with a squeeze.
“I was taking a shower after a day of pickleball and mini golf with her pretentious friends and her awful ex. I was a hazy mess from the alcohol and the pot I’d snuck out to smoke when no one was looking. She slipped inside the shower.”
My throat worked around my next confession as the car slipped into my allotted parking spot. I cut off the engine.
“As soon as I saw her in the shower, naked, I told her to please get out. I was calm but firm. I explained I didn’t want her that way. That sex was not a part of our contract, and I wasn’t open to renegotiation. But she insisted her friend, who’d hired me the year before, got the so-called full treatment. I clarified that certain extra was a case-by-case issue. But she crowded me, cupping my cock, kissing down my chest…”
I closed my eyes. Fuck. I always felt violently mad when I heard about women getting sexually attacked, because typically, it was near impossible for them to fight off their attackers, size- and strength-wise.
But seeing as I was a hulky, muscular dude, I couldn’t stop thinking I could’ve prevented my assault somehow. Pushed her off. The victim guilt gnawed at me, chipping away at my self-worth and my pride.
“The worst part was that I let it happen,” I choked out, transported back to that moment.
By the time she was on her knees, my stupid cock was already hard, my back pressed against the granite wall. I just stood there and watched as she sucked me off.
“The entire time, I felt like I was trapped in my own head, desperate to break free—to tear the chains. It was the longest ten minutes of my entire life. And in them, I realized a lot of it was due to the decisions I’d made over the years. I wouldn’t say it was my fault, but…”
“No.” Dylan shook her head, and when I turned to look at her, I was surprised to see frustrated, angry tears glistening in her eyes. She had the same look she sported yesterday, when I told her Grav should go to preschool. The look of a lioness ready to fight to the death. “Don’t victim-blame yourself. None of it is your fault.”
“I’m not saying it was. But I chose to drink on duty. I chose to smoke pot and get high. I chose to offer myself as a boyfriend-for-hire. I chose to sleep with ninety percent of my clientele. I inserted myself into a highly explosive situation. I could’ve put my business degree to use and worked on Wall Street. Hell, I could’ve still been working with your brother. He offered for us to co-own La Vie en Rogue before he opened it. I opted out. I didn’t want the long hours, the mountains of paperwork, the endless sacrifices. I realized I’d been lying to myself this whole time by saying I enjoyed what I was doing.” My mouth pressed into a thin line. “After it was over, in the shower, I grabbed my suitcase and left. Ubered it from the Hamptons back to Manhattan. That day, I threw away my pot. Made a rule to only drink once a week. Quit my fake-boyfriend business. I started looking into my finances and realized I’d been drowning myself not only in drugs and alcohol but also in big splurges that didn’t match my income. I decided to turn a corner. Do something with myself. Provide people with the opportunity to have a fake date without putting any of the individuals involved into compromising positions.”
“You should’ve gone to the police after the assault.” Her lips twisted in fury. “This is ridiculous. What she did was illegal. She—”
I shook my head. “She was drunk off her ass and an emotional wreck. I’m not making excuses for her—I just didn’t see the point. What can I say? I got a taste of the consequences of my own decisions, and I hated it. All this to say you can’t fall back into working at a bar or at a restaurant in New York like you did back home. And trust me, I get that the familiarity of it is tempting. Not because there’s anything wrong with it. There isn’t. Some people thrive in these careers. But you don’t.”
She flinched, and that was how I knew I’d hit a nerve.
I dug deeper. “You’ve always wanted to become a doctor. You still can. Well-worth-it journeys tend to be uphill. If life’s hard, it means you’re doing it right. Don’t pass up on this preschool. You owe it to yourself and to Gravity. If your kid doesn’t see you chase your own dream, how do you expect them to chase theirs?”