God, I want this man to bend me over and fuck me against one of the bookshelves.
“Tell me more about this handle-book you liked so much?” Tristan pulls back, a smoldering glint in his eye.
“Um, the epilogue,” I mutter. “He chases her through the woods.”
He pauses, his lips tilting in a smirk. “And?”
“When he catches her, he takes her. Right there, in the middle of the woods.” The words come out breathy, and my panties are soaked through now.
“Is that a fantasy of yours, Princess?” Tristan teases. He rests one hand against the bookshelf beside my head and leans in. “Do you want a masked man to chase you through the woods and fuck you?”
“I…I…” Hey, wait a minute. “I didn’t say he was masked.”
Tristan steps back, raising both hands in defense. “Alright, you caught me. I watched your last YouTube video. I’m all caught up on them now.”
Why am I not surprised? Even with my wigs and my makeup, my real identity is safely hidden behind the @HotLipsandHardcovers.
Everyone on my page thinks my name is Maggie. I don’t want the one happy corner of my life to be tainted by my parents, politics, and being the First Daughter. Hence, the makeup and wigs. It might not be a mask, but it’s a safe place to hide.
“So, how did you find them in the first place? I thought I blocked you after we met.”
“I watch them through your phone.”
At least he has the cojones to own up to it and finally tell me he bugged my phone. I suspected he’d been watching me for a while. I had no idea whether he could hack my phone, but my dating apps vanished not long after we met, and my software was updated for the first time.
“For how long?” I ask.
“What day did we meet again?” His lip quirks like he’s fighting back a smile.
I clutch my hand to my chest in mock offense. “You mean you don’t remember the day we met? And you have the audacity to call yourself my boyfriend?”
“Princess, I remember it clearly,” he jokes. “Friday. June sixth. At around five past five. You were wearing that sexy suit jacket and skirt.” His eyes glint. “God, I wanted to bend you over in that skirt the first time I saw you.”
“I’d be happy to oblige now.”
The air stills, and he goes silent. Is he still breathing? Should I check for a pulse?
“I still have that outfit,” he says. “I promise to give you your fantasy if you give me mine.” He taps his finger on the book in my hand.
“Deal.” He seals the deal with a toe-curling kiss, but ends it all too quickly. The man’s a total tease.
“So, what’s next now that you’re not working?” Tristan asks with a curious note in his voice as he picks up a historical romance from one of my moving boxes.
“I think I’ll focus on my book accounts while I look for work. I’m already monetized, but I haven’t put much effort into actively growing my accounts. It’ll take a while to build up a following, but I enjoy it. Some people make a living off it.” I never thought I could be one of those, but then again, I didn’t try before. I didn’t have time or the brain space or the freedom.
But I do now, and for once, I think it’s worth taking a chance on myself and what I can do if I try hard enough.
“Your videos were engaging.” The sincerity in his voice makes me grin like my crush has just asked me to the prom. “I’m sure you could do it now that you have time to make more content.”
My inner child might cry from having someone support something I want to do, but I’m not ready to confront that yet. “And I want to go to therapy.”
Tristan pauses.Does he think it’s stupid? A waste of money to spend hours talking to someone about my problems? What if he doesn’t trust me and thinks I’ll let it slip that my boyfriend is a serial killer?My parents forbade me from attending therapy in case I spilled some sort of family secret, and it leaked to the press.
“I think therapy’s an excellent idea,” he says with a smile. “I’ve gone for years. I couldn’t afford it right after Dad died, and most healthcare plans don’t cover it, so I had to wait until I had money to pay out of pocket. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.”
Tristan’s been in therapy? “Do you still go?”
He nods. “Every other Tuesday afternoon. I’ve made a ritual out of those Tuesdays. I have lunch, go to my session, then go visit my parents.”
