Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I sigh, shaking my head, pushing it all away. Doing my best to stuff it somewhere I don’t have to think about it, none of it.
Not Felix, our future, or what would happen if Lola had access to my thoughts, if only for a second.
I imagine what she’d do if she could peer inside my head and see the want flurrying through me, how betrayed she’d feel, how disgusted.
Focusing on the task directly in front of me, I tell myself nothing else matters.
But that’s a lie.
Even when I go through with this, arranging the models – and confirming the fact nothing romantic is ever going to happen with Felix and me – I won’t be able to stop. But I’ll just have to experience this silently, never voice it, the same way I have since my crush started.
I’ve got practice keeping my desires to myself.
A while later, I look up again.
Felix stands at the window, his stance wide, his shoulders squared. His expression is tight as he stares down at me, right at me, like nobody else ever has.
It’s like he’s debating running down here and grabbing me, pulling me close to his taut body and kissing me firmly, kissing me so hard I’ve got no choice but to sink into the heat.
And then, when I try to tell him, we should stop, try to remind him of Lola, he’ll make a noise like a lust-driven animal breaking free from his chains.
He’ll lift me off my feet, his strong hands on my ass, pressing against me as I shift up and down.
I’ll know what to do, how to please him, how to drive him crazy with desire.
I love you, he whispers in my mind, as the real Felix just stares and stares, giving me no sign of what he’s thinking.
Then he turns away, moving out of view, leaving me even more confused than I already was.
Looking down at the photos again, I look into the face of a young boy, his eyes haunted, mud smeared across his face as he stands in the foreground, and abandoned farmland rises in dull gray hills in the background.
I must be feeling over-freaking-emotional because a tear slides down my cheek.
Wiping it away, I get on with my work.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Felix
“I knew she’d be able to help with more than sorting through the photos,” Lola says on the phone, her tone bright.
I’m leaning back in my office chair. My cell phone gripped tightly in my hand.
But that’s not saying much.
Lately, I’m gripping everything tightly. I almost busted my blender earlier. Everything’s so tense, so on-edge, working so close to Faye.
It’s been three days.
And somehow – for Lola – I’ve been able to resist.
But I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
Especially today…
“She found the models herself,” Lola goes on, pretty much bursting with pride. “She’s arranged the test shoots. I think you’ll agree, Dad, that she’s one hell of an asset?”
“Thank you for recommending her,” I say with a smirk.
Even if thanking her is the opposite of what I should be doing. I should be pissed at her for putting me in this position, trying to do the impossible – resist an irresistible woman, be good and noble when everything in me is roaring to be bad.
To do things to her….
“You’re welcome,” Lola says, interrupting my thoughts.
It’s probably a good thing. I can’t think about Faye without my mind going to steamy places every single time. I can’t help it. It’s a pattern I don’t even want to break because that means letting her go.
Letting her go.
As if I have her to begin with.
“Are you excited about the shoot?” Lola asks.
I swallow, nerves making my throat feel raw. My instincts try to drive me to my feet, down into the warehouse, to angrily tell Faye she’s living in a dreamland if she thinks I’d take photos of half-naked women with her right there.
And even if she wasn’t, the idea still feels wrong to me.
“Yes,” I say, forcing the word out. “The start of a project is always exciting.”
I leave unsaid, not as exciting as the start of my and Faye’s life together.
Over the past few days, I’ve tried to imagine a scenario where Lola gives us her blessing.
I can’t.
“Let me know how Faye gets on,” she says. “Actually, what am I saying? I know she’s going to do great.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say, not wanting to compliment her too fiercely.
If I allow those words to burst out of me, telling Lola just how incredible Faye is – with a great eye for detail, always on time, always willing to put the extra work in – I won’t be able to stop.
I’ll talk about what a great mother she’s going to make, and how we will always be together for the rest of our lives.