Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I’m met with silence as his eyes burn into mine, and I wait for the laughter, the “fuck no.” But to my surprise, he cocks his head to the side, and he asks, “You want people to think we’re dating?”
“Yes.”
“For a marketing project?”
“Yes.”
His eyes search mine, and then he asks, “And what do I gain from this?”
Relief floods me since I assumed he’d tell me to fuck off, but he didn’t. Excitement follows the relief as I open my file to show him exactly what he’s about to gain.
Chapter Seven
Benson
While I’m caught off guard by what Cameron is asking, it’s a battle not to say yes so quickly. I want to. Desperately. But I know I have to refrain. I can’t let her know how much I want this, because I don’t think she wants the same thing. She never has. She always kept me at arm’s length, but sometimes she gave in to her desires. It didn’t happen much, but I could see it in her eyes when she wanted more than just sex from me.
But fuck if the look of relief on her face doesn’t do something to my heart. Her eyes are the deepest brown, her lips curved at the sides as her cheeks dust with color. She stands, and I take in her short shorts that show off those fantastic, toned legs and round ass. I love that ass. Not only is it two perfect globes, but she has ripples along the bottom where her thighs meet, and I can still remember how it felt to run my tongue along them. To feel her thighs tremble under my mouth and fingers.
Ahfuckbuddy, keep it in check, I beg myself.
She walks over to me, opening a file and placing it beside me. I have to tuck my hands beneath my thighs to keep from touching her as she leans in and explains each sheet. I learned a lot from her about insights and data when we were dating, if that’s what you want to call our relationship. It was more a situationship if anything, but she didn’t catch feelings the way I did. I try to focus on what she is explaining and all the numbers she has to back it.
“I looked into your accounts, and I have a ballpark of how much you make, but I know I can help you triple it.” Money. So, she is offering money to date her. I chew the inside of my cheek as she continues. “I have more than nine companies that will work with us as a couple to promote their products. Once we get you to where I am, I know I can get you sponsorship with a lot of the athletic companies. And I’ve already drafted emails to Bauer and CCM.”
Anyone else would be highly impressed by her, but that’s normal for me. I don’t expect anything less from Cameron White. I’ve always been impressed by her. She’s a marketing genius, which is why I’m surprised she’s doing this. The school knows how successful she is—why would she even need to supply a final project? She doesn’t need them; they need her. Or at least, that’s what Callie said at the last family dinner.
I feel Cameron’s eyes cut to mine, but when I look up, she moves her eyes back to the file. I don’t look away, though. I take in the slope of her jaw, the purse of her lips, and the way she pushes her tongue into the small gap between her teeth. She swallows hard, and I can feel the heat coming off her in beautiful waves. She pulls out the chair from beside me and sits, leaning on her legs as her eyes meet mine. “I have a whole outline of different things we’ll do together. Of all our videos we’ll make. It’ll involve you going to my meets and me to your games.”
“Okay,” I say, the first thing I’ve said since she began talking. I don’t think she realizes I love going to her meets. I don’t think she ever sees me, but I do go.
“I’ll need six months for this. I believe that will give me an adequate amount of data for my final project. It’s a two-semester class.”
“Six months,” I say slowly. “Just so we’re on the same page, you want to date me for show, but we won’t be dating for real.”
“Right.” I look at her, really look at her, and she mutters, “I know this is a lot to ask, and as I said, you have no reason to say yes.”
She’s right; I don’t. But why wouldn’t I? Yet I do have a question that is burning deep inside my chest. “I don’t understand why you chose me for this.”
“Because we have history. We’re friends, so this should be easy.”