Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
That’s my fucking job. Find shows, make shows, make them rain down money on Ian, me, and our employees.
“Sounds great, Randy,” I tell him, then give a quick nod goodbye as I head out into the warm June evening.
Will Randy’s cousin’s show be the next hit? Odds say no. But still, the request resets my focus to TV, media, and the business I’ve built with Ian.
I was twenty-five when Harlow’s dad and I started working on Sweet Nothings, when we founded Lucky 21 to make it happen.
That show is my biggest hit. Sweet Nothings is the reason I’ve earned the regard I have, and it’s the reason we produced the shows that came after.
It’s the reason our company is worth millions.
I can’t mess with that reason.
As I walk toward the corner, there’s a clap on my shoulder. I turn to find Axel. “Superhero co-workers?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He must have been behind me and heard the whole conversation.
I shrug as we head to the studio together. “You never know where you might find the next big hit.”
“Randy gave me tips on how to write a better escape from law enforcement scene last week. Everyone knows something. And everyone wants something.”
“That’s the truth, isn’t it,” I remark.
But I say nothing more, even as Axel chats about a new band. While he talks, I’m seeing the dazed post-kiss look in Harlow’s eyes, then the bite mark on her lip. I’m inhaling the scent of her desire.
I’m smelling her cherry lip gloss all over again.
“Want me to send them to you?”
I have no idea what Axel’s talking about. “What?”
Axel laughs. “I was just telling you about some new tunes.”
“Sorry. I was…distracted.”
He rolls his eyes as a bus rumbles by, spewing a plume of exhaust. “I figured as much.”
There’s a strange silence between us for the next block, and then a clearing of his throat as we near the studio. “You okay, Bridger? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I sigh. “No, but I’ll be fine.”
I head into the studio and try to will away these feelings for an hour.
But back at home, I’m still wound tight. Every thought in my mind comes back to those ten minutes by the door in my office.
I strip out of my clothes, head to the shower, and turn it to scalding. The bathroom steams up, and in no time, I’ve slammed a palm against the wall and I’m working myself in a frenzy.
It’s been a while since I’ve jerked off like this.
Frantic. Urgent.
Images snap before me. Her hand on mine. Mine dangerously near her panties. Her wanting me there.
Just fucking wanting me with this same, wild abandon.
I come on a guttural groan, then pant, breathing hard, hanging my head under the water.
Maybe I just needed to get her out of my system.
Maybe one good jerk will erase today.
Ten minutes later, I’m restless in bed, something gnawing at me.
Of course something would gnaw at you. You touched Ian’s daughter.
I turn off the light, annoyed and pent up. I’ll just mentally review my plans for tomorrow, and maybe then I can sleep.
I start my review with my meetings in the morning, then my calls in the afternoon, and then…
Tomorrow night. Wednesday evening.
That’s it. That’s what’s eating at me.
I bolt upright, grab my phone from the nightstand.
I didn’t confirm the plans. She might think I won’t go with her after how I left things. Or she might think I’d go without her.
I send her a text.
Bridger: Thank you again for the VIP tickets. Maybe we should meet there.
Harlow: Good idea.
My gut churns.
That’s so not her. That’s not her at all. She’s bright and sharp as a knife. I should leave well enough alone. Truly, I should.
So I do one right thing today—I turn my phone off so I won’t start up again with her.
18
THE VIRGIN SOCIETY
Harlow
Honey.
He gave me a nickname.
A delicious, sexy one.
Honey’s not a name you give someone you only kiss once. I’ve read enough, seen enough, know enough. I am his honey.
And I’m not going to let one setback get me down. I’ll simply…find a new way to solve the puzzle of Bridger.
I want what I want, and I’m not done getting it—getting him.
The next morning, I do what any smart, Upper East Side girl would do. I call for reinforcements. On the way to work, I send a text to Layla and Ethan asking if they can meet for a quick lunch at a nearby diner that Layla loves.
A working lunch at Neon Diner, I add.
Naturally, they both say yes.
Until then, I’ll be the best damn intern there ever was. I walk into Lucky 21, and I do everything that’s expected of me and more in the morning. I write excellent reports. I take orders from Jules. I don’t even see Bridger, talk to him or text him.