Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“’Kay.” I don’t know if I pull off the casual tone I’m going for.
“Go change out of your suit, because I know you hate them. Then we’ll talk.”
I tilt my head. “How do you know I hate my suits?”
“The first thing you do when you get home every night is strip down to the least amount of clothes possible.”
“Maybe I just hate clothes.”
Anders turns to face me. “Can you please put clothes on tonight so I can at least get out what I need to say?”
“So this isn’t a clothing-optional event?”
“If you’re still with me after everything I have to tell you, then we can get to the clothing-optional part.”
Anders’ laughter fades as I bolt for my room. Even though my heavy feet go nowhere near Meatball, she still meows at me from where she’s lying in the middle of the floor as if to say, “I’m here, don’t step on me!”
I’m tempted to forget my shirt but decide I’m too interested in what Anders has to say to taunt him.
Once dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I head back out to find the cat still staring at me. She’s changed so much since Anders moved in—more cat and less demon—and when I approach, she looks up at me as if she wants me to pick her up.
I give her a quick cuddle and take her over to her food bowl where there’s biscuits for her to eat.
“If she’s telling you I didn’t feed her, she’s a lying whore,” Anders calls out from the kitchen.
I laugh. “She still has food there.”
Anders and I meet in the dining room and sit across from each other.
“This is new,” I say at the plate in front of me. Looks like sweet potato mash, chicken, and— “Is that fennel?”
“Yup,” Anders says proudly. “I had to call my mum and ask what the fuck it was, but I think I cooked it right.”
He’s learning, though I thought fennel was one of those vegetables you don’t cook. But I’m not going to bring that up.
“Well …” I eye him expectantly.
Anders takes a deep breath. “Okay … so … when I told my therapist that something happened between you and me and she advised me to stop, she also suggested something else I didn’t tell you about.”
“Okay …”
“This is another one of those things where I kinda have to blurt it? Because it’s embarrassing.”
I put my cutlery down as I prepare myself to hear him out fully.
“She suggested I go to sex therapy.” Anders’ words are so fast, I’m not entirely sure I hear him correctly.
“Sex therapy. What exactly is that?”
“Where you go talk to someone about any sex issues. Like my need to be in control in the bedroom and my inability to let go.”
“Oh, okay. Sounds less kinky than I was thinking. I thought it was a fancy word for ‘hooker’ or something.”
Anders laughs. “You wish.”
Actually, I don’t. I don’t even know how I feel about Anders talking to some other guy about sex even though I have no right to him in that way.
“Is he hot?” falls out of my mouth.
Anders smirks. “His name is Ed Shearon.”
“Get the fuck out. Please tell me he’s a ginger like the singer?”
“Nah, looks nothing like him. Last name’s spelled differently too. But it’s still weird saying my sex therapist is Ed Shearon.”
My eyes narrow. “You deflected the question, so he is totally hot.”
“He’s also married according to the ring on his finger, and it’s probably to a woman. Though, he was quite knowledgeable about gay lingo.”
“Would probably have to be in his line of work.”
“True.” Anders shakes off the thought. “But you have nothing to worry about. Nothing turns you off someone more than having them psychoanalyse your sexual habits.”
“Did I say I was worried?”
Anders eyes me. “Are you worried?”
Time to downplay the interest I have in Anders by avoiding the question. “What did he say?”
Anders swallows hard and looks away. “Finish dinner first?”
I agree but can’t help wondering if it wasn’t bad, then why he’d want to put the conversation off. Then again, he kissed me when I walked in, so I really have no idea what he needs to say. “Are you sure we can’t talk about it now?”
“Umm … I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Anders averts his gaze as he says, “Because if you’re okay with what he had to say, then I assume we won’t even finish dinner.”
I groan. “Why’d you have to go and say something like that?”
“Don’t get too excited, because we do kinda have to discuss some shit.”
“Like what?”
“Well, today with him was mostly giving him my history and setting goals, so it was pretty boring.”
“Ah.” I take a giant bite of chicken.
“Until the end anyway,” Anders adds.
“The end?” I ask, my mouth full.
“Yeah. When he suggested I tie you up and fuck you.”