Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Slowing down, I suck in breath after breath coming up to my house. I see the bright red Ferrari backed into my driveway. Wesley stayed the night last night. Again. The guy is becoming more clingy than I like.
I remove the earbuds and hustle up the steps, opening both double glass doors. I try to catch my breath as the smell of bacon hits me.
Making my way down the hallway and through the archway to the kitchen, I see Wesley standing at my stove cooking. “Smells great, babe.” I give him a smile as if I’m thankful.
He turns to me with a smile, holding a spatula in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. “I thought you’d be hungry after your run.”
I tell myself it’s not his fault we’re in this situation. He’s so thoughtful and a really nice guy. I feel bad for using him the way I do. But the Lords ordered it, so I couldn’t not do it.
I lean up on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss on his lips. “I have to get ready.” Then I walk toward the primary bedroom.
He follows. “Babe…you have to eat.”
“I’ll grab something on my way out,” I state, entering my en suite bathroom. I remove my cell holder around my right arm and stop my playlist. Then I peel the nasty sports bra off my sweaty chest and back before shoving my leggings down my thighs along with my thong.
I turn to start the shower and see him standing in the doorway. With both arms above his head, he’s gripping the top of the doorframe. His eyes drop to my legs and slowly make their way up to my chest. We haven’t had sex. I hate to say I tried one night when I was wasted, but he turned me down.
I wouldn’t say he’s religious, but he believes in values that people in my world don’t even know exist. He’s been engaged before, and she cheated on him. She was still going to walk down the aisle. He called it off three weeks before the big day, and he said he couldn’t go through that again. I haven’t cheated on him, but I’m no better than her. I’m only in this relationship for myself. I told myself the Lords wouldn’t know if I slept with one guy. Who knows when I’ll become a Lady. It could be years from now.
We made a pact on our third date that we both wanted to wait until we got married. A month into our fake relationship, I threw myself at him, and he told me no. He reasoned that if we couldn’t honor something so small, how could we ever honor each other in a marriage? He sees me as the endgame while I’m just playing him.
A part of me says fuck the Lords. How will they know if I’m no longer a virgin? But another part of me knows they see everything, and he isn’t part of that world. I refuse to get him hurt because I stepped over the line drawn for me by the Lords. They love making the innocent pay, and the guy I’m pretending to be with is definitely innocent. So I haven’t tried since.
“I was thinking about trying out that new restaurant tonight?” He looks away, breaking the silence. “That sushi place that you sent me the link to?”
“Sounds good.”
He nods to himself before walking toward me. He kisses my cheek and then turns to leave. “Have a good day today, babe. Call me when you get a chance.”
I don’t have time to savor the shower, so I hurry to wash my hair and body, already trying to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. That’s why I went for a run. I needed to clear my mind.
Once finished, I turn off the water just as I hear a crashing sound. “What the fuck?” I grab the towel on the counter and rush into the kitchen to find the eggs and bacon on the floor. My cat is eating them up. I sigh. “Muffin.”
She looks up at me and meows. “Well, one of us should enjoy it.”
Making my way back to the bathroom, I proceed to get ready. Drying my hair, I twist it into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Then I put on very little makeup, just powder and mascara. Entering the closet, I pick my most unflattering tan bra. No push-up, no designs. And then a black button-up shirt. I tuck it into a white pencil skirt that hits my knees and comes high up on my waist, then top it off with a white blazer and a pair of three-inch heels. Not my first choice, but I’m not trying to look too fuckable, just professional.