Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
His eyes widen as he notices me. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
I blush. I know it isn’t from the sex now but from embarrassment. I didn’t figure he’d say anything. Didn’t think he’d care, but now that he’s said something, I’m self-conscious. I remove them. I’ll slip them into the nightstand.
“I normally wear contacts. I just—”
“No, no.” He gets on his knees and approaching me quickly.
“I like it. Very Clark Kent.”
He takes them from my hands and puts them back on my face before scanning me over.
“Clark Kent and Superass.”
I chuckle. “Oh, now, it’s Superass?”
He growls and my dick twitches.
“Yes, it is,” he says. “You should wear these all the time.”
Despite the sincerity in Travis’s eyes and the fact that I know he doesn’t have a reason to lie to me, for some reason, I can’t take him seriously right now.
“Peter fucking hated these. I used to wear them all the time, but he would give me shit. Told me no one wears glasses anymore. I mean, he was right.”
“Fuck that. They’re part of what make you beautiful. Unique.”
Beautiful?
No one’s ever called me beautiful before. I turn from his piercing gaze.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me so that our torsos are flush, his face inches from mine. “Peter sure did a number on you. Guess he was just trying to keep this hot piece of ass all to himself.”
“Not as hot as that young thing he’s got now.” I’m trying to make a joke out of it because all this flattery makes me uneasy.
His hands drift down to my ass, which he cups, gripping securely as though he wants me to know that these cheeks were his less than five minutes ago.
“That little twink doesn’t have anything on you,” he says before his eyes narrow. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Whenever I compliment you, your eyebrow twitches.”
Now I’m really uneasy.
“It’s cute as fuck,” he adds before offering a kiss. It relieves the tension he stirred when he started talking like this.
Once again, I turn away from him.
He glances at the window.
“Hey, you can see my place from here, can’t you?”
“Um…yeah.”
He turns back to me, his right eyebrow raising quickly.
“Oh, someone enjoying the view a little more than he should?”
“You have blinds. If you don’t want anyone to see, you should close them.” I wink. I’m teasing him, but I like that the attention is off me for a moment.
“Such a contradiction,” he mutters.
“What?”
“You didn’t have any problem saying that to me, but I tell you how cute you are, and you get all weird and quiet.”
“Now you’re trying to make me uncomfortable.”
And it’s working.
“Stop being stupid and come here.”
He kisses me, soothing me once again. I’d prefer to just do this. His touch. His caress. His fucking never makes me uneasy.
He slides his hands from my ass, up my back before wrapping his arms around me. He lifts me, pulling me onto the bed. He shifts his body, guiding me onto the covers until we’re lying side by side. When he pulls away, I lie back while he remains on his side, gazing down at me.
He winces before saying, “So tell me about this family of yours.”
“What?” So much for feeling relaxed again.
“I guess these glasses and that shit you were saying about musicals at dinner got me thinking about how little I know my fake boyfriend. You said that you had a sister—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say so fast and dismissively that I surprise myself, and Travis looks at me like I just shape-shifted in front of him.
“Now I’ve made it weird. It’s nothing. It’s just…”
I might as well tell him. I’ve signed up for a bogus relationship and now to help him with a fucking fundraiser, so he’ll find out sooner or later.
“She’s in prison,” I confess.
“Prison?”
“Yeah. She was always getting into trouble when we were growing up. She had a very…outgoing personality. Very fun and loving and exciting to be around, but she wasn’t the kind of kid that Mom and Dad could control. She would fight with them…a lot. When she was a teenager, that’s when the sneaking out started. The fights about where she was began. And then she started getting into trouble with guys who weren’t the best for her. Got arrested for shoplifting when she was sixteen. Did a little time in juvie and then when she was twenty-one, she was arrested during a drug bust on a meth house that she was at with one of her boyfriends. She got ten years. Now they have a diagnosis, at least. Borderline personality disorder. Well, they go back and forth between that and bipolar disorder. I can’t really say what they think it is this week.”
“Dude, that’s some serious shit.”
“And that’s not even the half of it. Not exactly the best conversation for dinner parties,” I say, reflecting on how many people in my life I haven’t told this to. Reflecting on all the lies I tell to appear normal.