Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I’m still standing there like a mute when she adds the remark, “Sleep, of course!” with a teasing wink.
I nod—I think, anyway. It’s hard to tell with my head this fucked. Quickly, I scurry out of the bedroom and back into the living room, and Brooke once again follows. That’s to be expected since she’s seeing this thing for the first time, which makes me the unofficial tour guide, but my dick could use a little more time to himself to think about what he’s done.
Dick detention, if you will.
I walk all the way to the front of the bus while she explores the living room and kitchen area. It’s all open, so it’s not like I can get away from her for a few minutes, but I’m far enough away that her perfume isn’t going to my head.
Jesus, Chase. What is wrong with you? Stop thinking of your author like this.
“So, there’s only one bedroom?” Brooke finally asks, the dull, aroused hum in my brain quieting just enough for me to hear her. There’s definitely shock in her voice—and a dash of fear too. The rosiness I’ve come to know well is back in her cheeks, and Benji is circling her like a turkey vulture.
“One bedroom, yes. But the couch pulls out into a bed, and that’s where I’ll be.” I don’t see any benefit to dragging this information out. For all I know, one little tease about sharing a bed and Brooke might pass out, and my dick might consider that some kind of go-ahead to put on his military uniform and stand at full attention.
“Well, okay then.” She turns around in the space a couple of times before slumping down on the couch and covering her eyes. “It’s going to be a long three weeks, isn’t it?” she asks from behind her hands.
I nearly laugh at how defeated she sounds. This woman is about to embark on a three-week Netflix tour—because her books are going to be on TV—and she’s worried about not enjoying it.
It hits me then that I’ve inserted myself for my own personal gain, but morally, I have a bigger job to do than just meet a deadline. I feel an innate, nagging need to make this trip enjoyable for Brooke. To give her a taste of just how good it can feel when hard work pays off. To remind her how incredible she is.
Okay, buddy. Pump the brakes again, for fuck’s sake.
To remind her how incredible her writing and talent are.
“I think it’s going to fly by,” I reply confidently, walking over to the spot in front of Brooke and holding out my hand. “Now, come on. Let’s get on the road, shall we? We’ve got a tour to dominate and a book to edit, all in three weeks. Dynamic duo for the win?”
Brooke looks at my hand for a long moment before shifting her gaze to my face. I don a smile in an attempt to put her at ease, but she just shakes her head and settles her face into her hands again with a huge, wounded sigh.
“Okay. That’s giving more duo-doom than dynamic,” I muse softly in the aftermath.
“Oh, Chase. Thank you, truly, for trying so hard,” she groans, finally removing her hands and standing in front of me. Without warning, she pulls me into a hug. Her perfume is going to my head again, and I hate how much I like the feel of her warmth pressed against me. “Thank you. Again,” she adds. “For fighting so hard for me and my books and all of it.”
When she pulls away, I’m once again enraptured by her smell and her smile and her…everything.
“I promise not to be a pain in the ass more than ninety percent of the days, okay?”
I chuckle, despite the fact that I’m still trying to inhale her multinote scent deep into my lungs. It’s fresh. And something else I can’t put my finger on yet. I need more time to sample.
“Just a quick trip to the ladies’ room, and we’re on the road.”
She disappears inside the tiny space on quick feet, and I’m left standing in reflection.
Do I think it’s a bad sign that I just imagined what it would be like to touch Brooke Baker—otherwise known as the most important author of my career? Or do I think she smells like soft citrus on a summer night?
Or do you think that, maybe, you are far more fucked than you even realize?
Brooke
I take deep breaths in the bathroom while Benji whimpers at the door. He and I both know I’m on the verge of losing lights and power, but I can’t bear to open myself up to the outside world, even if it means Benji can’t get in. That would be like fully admitting it, and I’d honestly rather hit my head in here at this point than confront the fact that I just pulled Chase Dawson into a hug without his permission.