Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
By sending the selfie, I’d spoiled the reveal for Noah, but I figured this was a good trade-off. Now he had a picture of me in his phone. Sure, he could watch my YouTube channel or my TikTok videos anytime he wanted, but this was different. This image was only for him.
Noah: Yeah, looks good.
It wasn’t the resounding answer I was looking for, but I could live with it.
Me: Thanks. I’m heading your way.
Noah: See you soon.
I grabbed my purse and my overnight bag and made my way downstairs.
My father didn’t seem to be home, and I nearly escaped the house unnoticed, but my timing sucked. Just as I opened the door to the garage, my mom rounded the corner from the kitchen.
Her gaze swept over my outfit and noted the overnight bag, and her tone was curious. “Where are you heading off to?”
Shit. I’d promised not to lie, but there was no avoiding it. “Uh . . . Sasha’s.”
She looked dubious. “You’re wearing that to Sasha’s?”
“We’re going out, and I’m going to crash at her place after.”
Her doubt cleared. “Oh. Okay, stay safe and have fun.”
“Will do.” The words were sticky in my throat and came out garbled. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
During the drive over to Noah’s house, I constantly had to remind myself not to speed. My anxiousness to see him and my curiosity about the club combined to give me a lead foot. When I finally reached his place, I parked to the side in his driveway, out of the way, clasped my bag, and scurried up the front walkway.
I didn’t get a chance to ring the doorbell, because he must have seen me coming and was waiting for me just inside the open front door.
“Holy fuck,” I blurted. “You’re wearing a suit.”
His pleasant smile froze. “Is that bad?”
He glanced down at his charcoal gray suit and maroon tie, searching for what was wrong. Oh, my God. When I’d texted him the picture of what I was wearing tonight, had he chosen his tie to match? We looked like we’d planned it.
Like we were a couple.
“No, it’s not bad,” I said, and pretended to be irritated. “I just wasn’t expecting you to look so freaking hot.”
He laughed and adopted the same annoyed tone I’d used. “It’s only fair. I have to deal with,” he gestured to my outfit, “all this.”
His gaze filled with heat, telling me just how much he liked what he saw, and warmth swept through me. This was the reaction I’d hoped for earlier, but getting it in person was way better than through a text message.
When I climbed the two steps of his front porch, he reached out and took my bag from me like a gentleman and motioned for me to go inside. I did and lingered awkwardly in the entryway. I hadn’t prepared myself for how strange it’d feel.
Tonight, he wasn’t my client.
Instead, he’d be my guide.
“You want something to drink?” he asked as he moved through the entryway and headed toward the guest bedroom. He raised his voice so I could still hear him while he was out of sight. “You might have to drink it fast, though. I already called for a Lyft.”
“No, thanks. I’m okay.” It was surprising he’d booked a car, because it was just after nine and the sun hadn’t set all that long ago. I figured this club would be like any other and didn’t get busy until late. “Do we need to get there soon?”
He reappeared and glanced at his phone screen. “Kind of. I was hoping to have some time to show you around before the show starts.”
My breath quickened. “There’s a show?”
“Calling it a show might be the wrong word. It’s more like . . . a demonstration.”
I swallowed hard and my voice fell to a hush. “A sexy demonstration?”
“Yes.”
The cavernous space of his entryway became cozy and intimate when he came closer, and even he seemed to notice. His irises darkened with something that looked a hell of a lot like lust.
“It’s hard to be friends with you,” I uttered, “when you look at me like that.”
Noah drew in a deep breath and didn’t look away. A war was going on inside him between what he should do and what he wanted to do, and it seemed like desire was winning out.
“Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t sound sorry at all.
But then he broke the gaze, turning his focus to the small purse that dangled from my elbow. The bag didn’t hold anything more than my phone and a tube of lipstick, but I had nowhere else to put them.
His gaze rose back to my face. “I know this will probably be a challenge for you,” a slight smile tilted his lips, “since you’re a ‘permanently online’ person, but you’re not allowed to use your phone inside Club Eros.”