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Foster jumps, almost dropping my laptop on the floor, like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. You know, like reading my unfinished novel he never should’ve known existed. He gives me a sheepish smile, almost shy. “Good morning, Princess. I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed your computer to look up some stats.”
Fucking stats. I knew it was a thing.My shoulders relax and I clear my throat. “Oh, okay, just stats.”
“Well, it was stats.” He glances at the laptop and then back at me, his cheeks dusting with a faint blush. “But then I found this story on here.”
I clutch my hands over my chest. Realistically, I know my heart won’t actually break through my ribs and flee, but it sure fucking feels like it.
“You read it?”
“I read most of it. I’m sorry; once I started I couldn’t stop. It’s really good, Avery. Did you write this?”
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, so I nod.
“What are you planning on doing with it?”
“I… uh, I…” There’s no judgment, no lectures. No telling me what I should be doing with my spare time, just genuine curiosity. “It’s a romance novel I’m working on. If I can finish it and it’s not a steaming pile of garbage, I think I’d like to try to publish it.”
“You really should.” He smiles, like he didn’t just topple my expectations—again—and validate my dream. No one’s ever done that before. Not Ron. Not my dad. Not even my own mother. “I can really feel the tension between Sadie and AJ, and even though I totally respect their reasons for not getting together, I really want them to shag. That damn masturbation scene was hot as fuck.”
“Yeah? You really think so?”
“And it’s giving me all sorts of ideas.” His smile turns feral and his eyes darken as they rake over my body. “I want to see how pretty you look coming on your fingers. I want to hear every noise you make as you fill that greedy cunt of yours while watching me stroke my cock.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and smirks. “And then I want to come on your magnificent tits.”
“I thought last night was a one-time thing.” I cross my arms and meet his heated gaze.
“No.” He shakes his head slowly, closing my laptop and putting it on the table beside the couch. “I told you I couldn’t make you any promises, but that’s not entirely true.”
“It’s not?”
My traitorous heart is in league withThe Crushand is leeching on to the little glimmer of hope. It’s a very dangerous pairing, and I need to be very careful. It’s not like I think he’s going to suggest picking out wedding linen or anything, butThe Crushis already imagining our future.
Get it together.Now is not the time.
“I promise you, one night is not enough.” A lifetime of nights with him won’t be enough, but I don’t dare scare him away. “I’m not nearly done with you, Avery, and I’m thinking you’re going to need some help with your sex scenes. You don’t want to repeat positions, and I can be very creative when I need to be.”
I’m not sure what this means for us, for our arrangement, but before I can ask, the alarm on his phone goes off.
He stands, smoothing down his very wrinkled white dress shirt, but it’s a lost cause. “Sorry, Princess, morning skate. I need to get back home, take a shower, and throw on clothes that your brother didn’t see me in last night.”
“Good idea. I don’t see it going well if you show up to practice looking like that.” I wave a hand from his shirt down to his rumpled charcoal gray dress pants.
“Fighting with your brother before practice won’t look too good for me, not if I want to keep up all this good Cramington press we’re getting.”
“Who knew so many people were rooting for Cramington?”
I sure didn’t. Not until I started scrolling social media and saw all the messages and tags. There are a good number of people against Cramington too, but since I decided the haters can go fuck themselves, their opinion doesn’t matter.
The Negative Nellies are getting outweighed by the supporters anyway.
After Foster’s caveman behavior during the kiss cam went viral earlier this week, we’ve had a lot more people sending their love and congratulations for our newfound love.
There are also people betting on how long it's going to take for Rhett to lose his shit. I might have put my money down on that one.
“That’s because we’re too cute.” Foster smiles, and I swear that thing is going to be the death of me. I don’t know if he realizes how potent it is. If I were wearing panties, they’d have disintegrated.
He heads toward the door, but pauses halfway and gives me a look I can’t decipher. It’s almost like he’s torn, but between what, I don’t know. If he wants to leave? If he has more to say? If he’s regretting our agreement or what happened last night?
Without asking, there’s no way to know, and I’m not sure I want to know.
