Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Guilt gets poorly hidden behind me wiping my mouth with a nearby cloth napkin.
“You haven’t been this into a chick in what…like…years?”
“Ever.”
The corner of her lips kicks upward. “And that scares you.”
“More than anything else, including my app – which you know I basically had to beg the company to take a chance on – failing.”
“And that fear is exactly why you need to boldly go where you’ve never gone before all alone, Justus Reese.”
Chapter 5
J.T.
I can do this.
I can have a real date with my fake girlfriend.
I can have a real date with my fake girlfriend all by myself.
Nervousness suddenly begins to swell around my neck like a noose prompting me to tug at the collar of my navy, “Spock It Like It’s Hot” tank top.
Shit, I don’t think I’ve felt this anxious about going on a solo date since I attended my first “face of Wilcox” event over a decade ago.
Then, I was worried about embarrassing my best friend.
His deceased parents.
Their legacy.
Now, I’m concerned that I may say the wrong shit and the woman of my dreams will decide it’s best we stay playing pretend rather than ever make anything real.
Post casually giving Singh the two finger signal to fall back, I finish my trek along the sandy shore to the palm tree we agreed to meet at.
It’s apparently the one she hid behind right before deciding to pick me to play the role of her boyfriend.
Guess it’s kind of sentimental that this is where we’re meeting today.
The first day we’ve actively planned to be alone versus our vacation partners flaking off for various reasons.
Huh.
What if this all goes to shit?
What if we both needed the backup file of having someone we could ultimately call on if things got weird or uncomfortable or too incompatible?
Was doing this mission solo a mistake?
Am I really prepared for this shit?
Fuckme, why do I wish Wes was around to give me a Batman themed talk like I did for him when he finally decided to get back onto the dating deck?
Not that I haven’t been dating.
They just didn’t mean anything.
Unlike Janae Boucher.
Who means everything to me.
Spotting most of her curvy figure blocked by the trunk of the tree is what leads to me gripping the back side and playfully swinging my face around to cheekily greet, “Beloved.”
The sight of her smile instantly appearing gets my heart pounding, demanding to be in the palm of her hand. “Imzadi.”
“God, I love it when you call me that,” slips loose prior to my hand savagely gripping the nape of her neck to aid in yanking her mouth to mine.
Our lips crash first.
Our tongues next.
Light presses waste no time transitioning into wild whirl after whirl after whirl, building up so much speed and intensity on each passing lash that I have to hasten my hold in order to keep my woman upright.
She whimpers in what I assume is gratitude, which spurs my thumb to gently stroke the skin underneath it, wanting to reassure her that I have her.
That I’ll always have her.
That I’ll never let her fall.
The unspoken promise prompts me to pull back and say it, to say everything I’ve been thinking, to insist we stop pretending to be a couple and actually become one, yet she speaks first, “Real fake kisses are my new favorite thing.” Girlish giggles precede my hand falling away. “That and the Gespar we had for breakfast.”
I do my best to swallow my bruised pride over the backhanded compliment.
“Did you and Bryn have it too?”
“We opted for the room service pancake project,” I reply in tandem with relocating myself to stand in front of her. “I had some work calls that needed my attention, plus, she’s not exactly a morning person.” Sliding my palms into my white boardshorts occurs between statements. “And being away from my nephew has reminded her of that truth.”
Warm snickers are attached to her asking, “How old is he?”
“Few months.”
“Pics?”
“When I get my phone back from Singh.”
Excitement threatens to overwhelm her expression. “You really don’t have it on you?”
“No.” Adoration floods my hazel gaze. “I wanted to make sure you had all my attention.” Our eyes linger in one another’s for a moment longer. “That our relationship came first.”
An almost bashful beam momentarily pushes her stare elsewhere leaving me a moment to finally admire the heart stopping view of her in a neon green bikini.
Boneshavemercy, I think I might need a fucking brain scan after this.
How am I supposed to function during a conversation let alone an active activity while she’s dressed like a roleplaying fantasy I didn’t even know I had!
And now I do have it.
And I want her to be Gaila.
And I want to be Kirk who hides under her bed.
Stopping my eyes from admiring her palm full of perky tits would be impossible if it weren’t for the tiny words scribbled in script across each set of her ribs and the original Starfleet Delta barely being blocked by the string of her bottoms.