Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
He releases me from his strong grip. “Okay, I guess I did promise you a night out.”
“And you said I can get ready first. You’re going to regret that.” I leave Rossi as I climb the rickety ladder into my bedroom. What I lack in furniture, I make up for in clothes, and considering how they’re strewn all over the place, I might as well have left the mattress behind and slept on piles of them instead.
Since we’re meeting Rossi’s friends later, I keep my outfit tame, but it still takes an abnormally large amount of time to choose. He decides his work pants will do, but I loan him a shirt that clings deliciously to his muscles. It’s lucky he’s not much bigger, or he never would have fit.
Rossi eyes my jeans and pink pinstriped shirt. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not what you’d normally wear out?”
“I’m respecting your friends’ delicate sensibilities.”
“How do you know they’re delicate?”
I feel like responding with because they’re straight is too strongly stereotyping for my comfort levels, so I shrug. “It’s the assumption I make with everyone before we meet. I’ve found it’s usually safer to ease people into my personality.”
“That’s bullshit.” He takes my shoulders and spins me back toward the ladder. “Wear whatever you like. Leave the sensibilities to me.”
Shit, he’s a sweetie. I bat my lashes over my shoulder at him. “You know I don’t need you to be my big bad savior, right? I know self-defense.”
“I know you don’t need it.” He tilts his head. “But tell the truth. You love it anyway, don’t you?”
Ooh, someone’s got my number. “Fine. The protectiveness is hot as fuck. You caught me.”
“Change. Now.”
“What if I come back down in a skirt?” I won’t because I don’t own any, but might as well see what he thinks.
“Then I’ll be spending all night trying to keep my hands out of it.”
I fake gasp. “Mr. Rossi, are you trying to corrupt me?”
“No, no. No, no, no.” He cringes. “No. Please never say that again. Especially while working for my dad.”
I laugh as I start to climb the ladder. “What? Your dad’s hot.” I drop my voice so it’s all exaggeratedly sexy. “Mr. Rossi, I’m so sorry I’m late with the report. I understand if you need to punish me now …”
“Do not make me regret this!” Rossi calls after me.
I chuckle as I strip again and grab a pair of metallic tights and a navy button-down shirt that I’ll be able to unbutton once we get to the club later. I turn so I can check my ass in the mirror, and yep. The pants show it off nicely. I might not work out or have muscles, but I never miss a day of squats, so you can bounce a quarter off that thing. It really is a shame no one but me has been able to enjoy it.
Until now. Hopefully. Maybe. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but Rossi fucking me … I tremble with the thought and have to remind my dick not to get ahead of itself.
It’s nearly impossible though. That big, bashful, beautiful man, holding me down as he pushes his sexy cock inside me …
If I wasn’t so worried about offending him, I’d offer him money to make that dream come true.
Instead, I’ll need to try patience, which is something I’ve always been terrible at.
“Have you been to the Rafters?” Rossi asks when I climb back down again. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he looks me over.
I pretend not to notice. “What’s that?”
“A rooftop restaurant. It’s really relaxed. Good cocktails and great tapas.”
It also sounds expensive, but I keep that to myself. It’s only one night, and if I need to ask my parents for an extra fifty to get through the week, I have that in my back pocket as a last resort.
We take an Uber into the city, where the Rafters is located on the rooftop of a fancy hotel. Rossi takes my hand as we get out of the car, and the questioning look he gives me to check that it’s okay is adorable.
I almost say no because he gives me the kind of fluttery nerves that make my hands sweat, but I push up to my toes and peck him on the cheek instead.
He beams and tugs me inside. “Come on. There’s a cocktail I saw last time that has your name on it.”
We take the elevator to the top floor, and when we step out, I can’t help smile. I hate how stuffy restaurants are, and somehow Rossi has brought me to my dream date place. Large exposed lightbulbs hang on strings over the rooftop that’s filled with sleek armchairs, love seats, and hanging chairs that look like little pods with twinkle lights inside.