Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“What’s up?” I ask. Aside from my dick, that is. Because he’s already getting perky at the sound of her voice. Which is unsettling. I have better control than this. Usually.
She takes an audible breath. “I heard Whip in the background. Can you…ah…talk?”
Brenna being hesitant means she wants to talk about one thing. My heart rate kicks up.
“Yeah, I’m in an empty sound booth.”
“Oh, right. You’re working on the album.” She sounds oddly fluttery.
“Bren. What’s up?”
“I thought of a few more rules.”
I hate following rules. Hell, I’d been breaking them most of my life. But for this?
“Okay, give them to me.”
Maybe I surprised her. I don’t know, but there’s a small stutter in her voice as though she wasn’t expecting my quick agreement. “Ah—right. As of last month, you were STI-free. Have you had sex since then?”
Her directness has me grinning. It isn’t as though any of this is a secret. Since Jax ended up with an STI last year, we all decided to be tested more frequently and announce our results to the group as a sort of united front. Weird? Maybe, but it cheers Jax up, so it’s worth it.
“No sex since then. I’m still in the clear and good to go.”
“Really?” It comes out with a slight squeak of surprise. “You haven’t had sex in a month? You?”
More like six months, but who’s counting?
“Jesus, Bren, you act like I’ve gone without for a year.”
“I’d say a month in Rye time is equivalent to a year for others.”
Snorting, I roll my eyes. Not that she can see it. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.” Either way, she’s not entirely wrong. I like sex. Scratch that, I love sex. But a man needs a break every now and then. And I haven’t been feeling it lately.
Until her. Now, yes, a month waiting for her would sure as hell feel like a year.
“And you?” I’m compelled to ask, even though I really don’t want to think about her with anyone else. “How long?”
“Long enough,” she says tartly. “I’m cleared and have an IUD. But we’re using condoms.”
“Fine by me. I never go without them.”
“Okay. Good. That’s settled.”
“That’s it? Surely, not. I expected a whole list from you.”
“Right you are,” she says with a smile in her voice. “First off, when we’re doing this, we’re exclusive. No fooling around with other people.”
“That’s a given, Bren. If I catch you with anyone else, it’s over.”
Her laugh is quick and dry. “Yeah, I’m the one to worry about.”
Biting my lower lip to keep in a grin, I answer with due gravitas. “I’m glad we agree.”
“Anyway… Moving on. No spending the night. We do…what we do, and then we go our separate ways.”
“Fine.” It isn’t as though I’m the cuddling type. I like my own bed. I like waking up alone without any expectations of conversation or commitment.
“Also, we meet at a hotel.”
“No.”
“No?” Her voice rises delicately. “What do you mean, no?”
“First off, the chances of me being spotted constantly booking myself into a hotel in New York are way higher than me slipping into your apartment. Secondly, it’s too cold and clinical. I’m fine with us being a secret, but I’m not treating this as some sort of business meeting.”
When she makes a noise of protest, I clench my phone. “Bren, you said you wanted something deeper. Sex with intimacy but without the complication of finding a boyfriend.” Jesus, I want to give her that. I want it so badly, my abs hurt with unreleased need. “That’s not going to happen in a hotel room. I’ll go to your place if you don’t want to come to mine.”
Although, in all honesty, I like the idea of her in my space. She’s barely ever there, and when she is, it’s for our “family” dinner.
“Fine,” she says after a long moment. “My place. One day a week.”
“One day a…” I bolt upright. “Hold on. Back that truck up. No way. We need more than a day.”
“Rye. We’re both extremely busy.”
“I’ll make time.”
“The whole point of me not wanting to search for a real boyfriend is that I don’t have time to drop everything just for him.” An exasperated sound rings through the phone. “Who was I kidding? This isn’t going to work. It’s too complicated and—”
“It’s not complicated. People say they’re busy all the time, but in reality, spend hours doing bullshit. And do not go into a tizzy about that. You know it’s true. Last night you were free. Unable, okay. But you had time, right?”
“Tizzy,” she mutters. “Yes, I was free.”
“Exactly. We’ll meet late. Four days a week.”
That sounded doable. I’d like more, but…
“Four? No. Two.”
“Three.”
“Do you want me to drop it down to one?” she warns.
“Now, Berry, you’ll only regret it if you do. After all, you haven’t sampled what I can do.”