Chapter 19 #3
“Hey, be careful, Wolff! Your giant ass is gonna break it.”
He kicks back, entirely unconcerned by the platform shaking, and just scrolls his phone.
I glare at him pointedly, so he turns his head toward me slowly, looking straight at me over his RayBans, his lips kicking up in a wicked smirk.
“These things are for fucking, Mia. This is a honeymoon hotel. I’m sure it can handle me parking my ass.”
Well. I. Never.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. I’m positively scandalized. Where are my pearls? I need something to clutch.
Clearly, I’ve binge watched a little too much Bridgerton lately.
Okay, let’s be real, I’m actually not. I just wasn’t prepared for him to throw out fucking on the freakin’ sun lounger so casually at ten in the morning.
He’s full of surprises on this trip, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.
Those mental images aren’t exactly helpful when I’m trying to drum up what not to do on dates. If this were a real date, I’m pretty sure that would do nicely.
Although… they disinfect these right?
“Oh nice, way to go reminding me of what bodily fluids we could be sitting on right now. Thanks, dickhead.”
I stick my tongue out at him like the big girl I am, and ignore his chuckle. Eyeing the towel I’m sitting on warily, I turn back to my laptop.
Let’s try this again, shall we?
10. Don’t sit beside your ridiculously hot bestie while writing about first dates. It won’t go well. You’ll probably drool. The end.
Nailed it.
He chuckles a couple more times, and it’s getting kinda annoying at this point.
“What’s so funny, wise guy? I’m supposed to be working, remember?” I shoot a mock glare his way, but he probably can’t see it behind my sunglasses.
“Just reading your Dickonomics article. This is great, Mia. So fucking funny.” He grins, waving his phone screen in front of me.
Wait. What?
He’s reading my article?
On email?
As in, he’s a subscriber?
My jaw drops while I stare at his smiling face.
He leans forward and tucks his index finger under my chin, slowly closing my mouth, the pad of his thumb caressing my bottom lip softly, before it falls away.
What is happening right now?
Settling back again, his eyes swivel back to his phone, totally engrossed in my words, the sight of him blurring as tears start to burn my eyes.
I’ve honestly never been more thankful for the sunglasses hiding my face because the last thing I need to be doing is crying over this.
Swayze will think I’ve entirely lost it.
But seriously, how is this real?
Pete wanted me to quit—I’m not even sure he took the time to read more than a passing headline, and even that was met with derogatory remarks—but Swayze subscribes?
I stay silent a beat longer, forcing myself to swallow past the lump of emotion stealing my breath. I can’t afford to get swept away in fantasies, no matter how good they seem.
He isn’t really mine.
He's just being a friend. A great one.
And that’s all I want from him.
Liar.
That’s my line and I’m sticking with it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I force a wide smile on my lips, arching a brow at him.
These eyes aren’t threatening to gush like Niagara Falls. Nope.
“You subscribe to Blush Magazine? You’re not our usual target demographic. Although I guess it’s probably good for the sex tips. I know they’ve helped a guy or two.”
His grin morphs into a scowl and I chuckle, instantly more comfortable reverting back to our usual status quo.
“Son of a”—the growl that rumbles out of his chest is stupid hot and doing allllll the things to my...
ahem. “I don’t need sex tips, Mia. You sure as shit didn’t think so when you were bouncing on my cock.
I had to smother your screams, if you recall.
” He pauses, ripping a hand through his hair.
“And FYI, I don’t wanna know about how it’s helped other guys fuck you.
I subscribe to read your articles. That’s all.
They’re funny as fuck. And I like to support my friends. ”
He slides his sunglasses off his face, his crystalline, sharp eyes focused on me, daring me to question him again.
Swallowing hard, I stay silent, watching the veins in his forearm flex while he white-knuckles his phone.
The air around us thickens, sparking with danger the second our eyes lock. The way he looks at me doesn’t feel too… safe.
Or friendly, for that matter.
I’m not sure if it’s the sun, this place, or the situation, but Swayze flips from one mood to another faster than I can skim read a paperback, and every single one brims with barely restrained tension.
Move on, Mia. Don’t toy with the big bad Wolff unless you want him to eat you.
Oh god.
Now my mind is flooding with images of Swayze’s face between my legs. It has to be the sun. Maybe it’s heatstroke, because this is ridiculous. Shuffling backwards, I squeeze my thighs tighter under my laptop and drag my burning face away from his to stare blankly at my screen.
Rule ten is taunting me like a premonition.
Something’s definitely drooling.
It’s just not my fucking mouth.