Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“How was your day?” Samuel asks.
Nathan takes his shirt off, and I watch as every muscle in his back tenses.
“It… was good,” I stammer, distracted. My eyes are locked on my best friend. “How was yours?”
“It was great after seeing you,” Samuel says.
Nathan drops his pants and carefully hangs them on a hanger. I can see every muscle in his thick thighs. “Same.” I frown.
Jeez.
“Where do you want to go on our first date?”
Nathan drops his black boxer briefs and then turns. I get a full frontal view. He’s hung and rippled with muscles. His pubic hair is short and well-kept. Fucking hell, my stomach clenches. He walks back up the hall to the bathroom. When he glances up, our eyes lock.
The air leaves my lungs, but he doesn’t flinch. It’s as if he wants me to look.
He wants me to see why he thinks my vibrator is pathetic…
Holy mother of God. What kind of a dick is that?
6
Eliza
“Are you there, Eliza?” Samuel interrupts my little peep show.
I frown, flustered, and I spin toward the kitchen. “Yes, sorry. I’m easy.” I splutter. Oh God, don’t say that. “I’m not… easy, easy. I mean I’m easily pleased.”
Oh fuck, shut up. You’re wrecking it.
I put my hand over my eyes.
“I know what you mean.” He laughs. “How about this weekend?”
Um, I don’t want a night time thing. It’s a bit too… date-ish.
Isn’t that the point, you idiot? Oh hell, this is a disaster.
“I can’t this weekend, I’m fully booked. I could do lunch, though.” I hear Nathan’s shower turn on, and I relax a little, knowing that he can’t hear me.
“Do you want to have lunch on Thursday?”
“I’m working.”
“So am I. We can grab a quick bite in the cafeteria. I mean, I know it’s not much of a first date but at least I get to see you.”
I smile, he seems eager. “That sounds great.”
“I’ll call you Thursday morning to arrange a time.”
“Okay.” I run my finger along the kitchen counter. It feels good to talk to someone.
“You’ve made my night by calling.”
I smile bashfully. “Mine, too.” I glance up to see Nathan standing in front of me with a towel around his waist. He raises his eyebrow in question.
“Who’s that?” Nathan mouths.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later then. Goodbye.” I hang up in a rush. “What are you doing?” I snap.
“Asking you where my shampoo is.” He frowns. “What are you doing?”
I turn my back to him and fill my wine, but I’m so flustered it sloshes over the sides of the glass. “Your shampoo is in my gym bag. I ran out… and I was arranging lunch.”
“With who?”
I drain my glass as I think of a lie. “Becca.”
“Becca who?”
“Becca Bib… Biblicists,” I blurt out.
His brow furrows. “Who’s Becca Biblicist?”
“A girl from work.”
He nods and then saunters back up the hall. He finds his shampoo and closes the bathroom door behind him.
I put my hands over my eyes. Becca Biblicist. That’s the best fake name I can come up with, seriously? What the fuck is wrong with me?
And why did I lie?
I should have just told him the truth. Ugh, what is wrong with me?
10:00 p.m.
I lie on the couch with my glass of wine in my hand as I go over my options, what I need to do is to just go in the room and tell him I have a date.
It’s no big deal. …. why am I making this a big deal? Nathan won’t care who I date.
Maybe it’s me that cares—maybe I’m the one with the issue here.
I tip my head back and drain my glass, knowing this is the exact reason why I need to date other people.
I am too dependent on Nathan.
The girls are right, this isn’t normal behaviour, why haven’t I seen it before now?
Two years with a man in my bed who I’m not having sex with is just plain weird.
I rinse my glass up and brush my teeth, and then I give myself a pep talk in the mirror. I’m just going to go in there and tell him.
Straight and simple; no fucking around.
I walk into the bedroom to see Nathan reading in bed. His hair is messy like he’s just been fucked. His arm is above his head, exposing his sculptured biceps. My eyes drop down lower, and I can count the ripples on his stomach. My own stomach flips. He looks like a Greek God or something. Damn it, does he have to be so fucking sexy?
“Will you wear some clothes around here?” I huff as I turn my side of the blankets back.
“What?” He frowns, but his eyes don’t leave the page.
“You’re half naked all the time.” I get into bed, annoyed. It’s like he’s purposely baiting me. I mean, I am only human; any red-blooded woman would be salivating if she was constantly exposed to this torture. I get a vision of him naked from earlier and his beautiful body.