“Whatever,” he snaps back, keeping my face covered with his big-ass mitt of a hand as he adds, “Wives shouldn’t keep secrets from their husbands.”
“I’ll make sure to tell the next guy everything.”
The chuckle he lets out makes me ravenous for murder, coupled with the horror that he’s going to see the damn bet. I’ll die. I’ll fucking jump straight out of this car onto the freeway, tuck-and-roll style, and wish for the best.
He cannot see that I was talking about his “giant cock” and that “I had self-control.” He doesn’t get to know I think he’s hot still. Shit.
“Crew,” I growl, wrestling with his arm. “If you don’t give my phone back right now, I will hold a pillow over your head tonight. You’ll sleep with the damn angels.”
He whistles, finally letting me go and tossing my phone back onto my lap.
“You’re so violent. You should work on that.”
In answer, I smack his arm once more for good measure, but it only serves to make him laugh louder.
Damn that laugh. It’s disarming and sexy as hell. It’s like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream. All melty and decadent, and it makes me want to lick him. But I won’t because he’s an asshole, and those aren’t keto-friendly… Also, I love my mom and my boots.
God, why did Millie have to be right. I have the worst taste in men. Because I can’t deny that there’s a tiny piece of me that is turned on right now.
I string my words together, brushing my hair out of my face.
“I’m convinced that whatever I saw in you last night only exists with tequila goggles.”
His face slowly lowers to mine as he leans over, suddenly invading my space. I hold my breath, swallowing as his minty warmth brushes over my skin.
“Maybe you just need a reminder. Dirty things happen in the light of day too…but that means we’d have to break your little ‘is she or isn’t she a brotherfucker’ rule.”
Nooo… I can feel myself turning into weak Superman. It’s the mix of sexy and shitty. It’s doing me under.
“Shut up,” I whisper, pressing my hand directly over his mouth, and quote my favorite movie. “You shut your mouth when you’re talking to me.”
But Crew presses his face closer into my hand, turning his head and growling like an animal as he takes a bite of the side of my palm.
The way in which my thighs squeeze together gives away just how much that turned me on. And if it didn’t, I fucking shiver.
“Ow.”
“Liar,” he mumbles before pressing a lingering kiss to the spot. “You know what I love about Vegas, Wild Card?”
That’s the third time he’s called me that. But that’s not the only thing throwing me off. I can’t foresee where he’s going with what he just asked, not that I actually care because Crew’s mouth on me has me all hot and flustered.
God, give me strength, or just let me break my legs so I’m not running straight for his dick.
Crew smirks, moving back into his seat as I shake my head and answer his question.
“No, what do you love about Vegas?”
“Betting on the house…because it never loses.”
What? Betting on the… oh my god. My brows draw together as my hands scramble for my phone, swiping it open.
Holy. Shit.
Are you kidding me? He made a new group message.
One that includes him.
Son of a bitch.
QB with the giant cock: Fuck around and find out, ladies. Old bets are dead. Here’s the new bet. A thousand bucks says I have her screaming my name by midnight tonight. If I don’t, each day I fail you earn another thousand. If I win, Eleanor deletes her roster in her phone.
Mills: That’s 30k… You’re fucking on, buddy. For the sisterhood Elle—DO NOT CAVE!!!
Samantha: Now we’re talking. Eleanor…you better not fail this mission! Be like Tom Cruise. Millie, we’re splitting it… I could do a lot of damage with fifteen thousand.
Eleanor has left the chat.
eleven
“Shirtless, gray sweatpants, and quad rolls.”
crew
Having her here, in my fucking space, is exactly as hard as I thought it would be.
That’s part of the reason why I made the bet…I’m never going to be able to not shoot my shot with her. And it’s clear the same shit is on her mind too.
Because she stared at the seat cushion of my couch for ten fucking minutes with a grin on her face and her legs squeezed together. The same couch her knees sunk down into when I bent her over it last night.
I’ll never make it thirty days before I turn into one of those little Chihuahua dogs that see a leg and start humping the air.
Because everything she does and every room she’s in makes me think about sex. There’s no safe space…my house is unsafe for me.
When she walked by the kitchen island earlier, I thought I was going to pass out because all I saw was her parked on top, legs spread as TJ ate her out.
I’m losing brain cells by the second here.
There’s no blood circulating anywhere in my body other than in my dick. Because I’ve had a half chub for way too long to be medically healthy.
My hand runs over the marble countertop as I chug back a water, before heading to the couch, trying not to think about the fact that I never got to sample her last night after TJ was done.
The regret is real.
Ironically, just as real as my regret that I even met her. I chuckle to myself because this is why women think men are stupid and led by our dicks.
I’ve got agents and public relations people working overtime to clean up my mess, but I would one hundred percent sell Nate to the highest bidder to be in Eleanor’s pussy right now. I swear I can’t stop thinking about her body and doing dirty shit to it.
If I don’t win this bet, I might actually combust. Problem is, I would never pressure her—that’s nasty and fucking illegal. I’m not that guy. But I am the guy with a plan: I have to be so irresistible that she jumps me.
She’ll come to me.
It’s weak, but it’s all I got. I have to be irresistible to a girl who basically despises me. Therein lies the problem. If it works, I’m a gambling genius. But I have a sneaking suspicion I’m more of a world-class fucking moron, who’s about to be out thirty thousand dollars to boot.
Especially since I was dickish to her earlier…but, I mean. I was having feelings. Really pissed-off ones.
I was going to apologize, but that group text had me in a hard Ross PIV-AUGHT…her bullshit felt like a challenge. And history’s already proven that if she issues one, I’ll accept.
However, this challenge is proving more difficult than I thought. Considering I’ve already lost day one’s bet since the moment after she left the chat and the ice in her demeanor got even chillier, and when we got home, after staring at the couch, the only thing she said to me was “Go get my friend. She’s staying here until her flight leaves tomorrow.”
Then she walked right into my room and closed the door. A few minutes later, a pillow and blanket were launched out.
Eleanor: 1
Me: 0
So now here I am, staring up at the ceiling from the couch, surrounded by my bedding, not even trying to hide my grin. Because while she’s been in the shower, I’ve been strategizing. And I’m going to turn the next thirty days into relentless temptation. I’ll make it impossible for her to stand by what she said.