Page 47 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

The laugh escapes my mouth and I have to shake my head. “Yes. Yes. You did.”

“But I was rough too, wasn’t I?”

I swallow a little and nod. I feel a lot better than I did this morning. I guess I was overreacting about the ‘never having sex again’ thing. I’m not damaged. I’m still sore, but it’s fading. I’m actually sorry it’s fading. I liked being reminded of Nolan’s cock inside me. “It was still fun. It was just a little bit scary too.” I blush like mad.

“I can do it better, Ivy. I mean—” It’s his turn to laugh. “I mean, better for a girl who needs it soft. I loved every fucking minute of last night. And I don’t know who’s running the blow job classes, but you get an A, woman. It was amazing.”

“Some porn star on PornTube was giving lessons.”

“Ah,” Nolan says, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me up to him. “You like porn? What would your father say about that?”

“He would die of embarrassment. And if he ever met you, he’d probably lock me up in the basement.”

“Well, I’m actually a nice guy, Ivy. So I’ll deal with him later.”

I can’t imagine what is going through his head right now. We’re talking about him meeting my father? “Who are you and what did you do with Nolan?”

“What?” He laughs. “I grew up in boarding school too, Ivy. I know the drill. And I’d just like you to know if I want to, I can pass inspection. But forget that for now. I’m fucking hungry and Claudette came storming in and messed up all my breakfast plans. Let’s just go eat.”

He opens the door on his Porsche and I slip inside and try to calm my racing heart as he opens the front trunk and places my carry-on inside.

When he gets in and starts the engine, the whole car rumbles. It all becomes real.

I slept with Mr. Romantic.

I am in his car, going out for breakfast in San Diego.

Yesterday morning, I was in Rhode Island. I had no job prospects, no boyfriend, and no life to speak of.

And now I’m here.

It all seems too good to be true.

Chapter Nineteen - Nolan

“Where are we going?” Ivy asks when we’ve been traveling on the freeway for about thirty minutes.

“Del Mar. Do you like the races, Ivy? The horses are running. So we’re gonna go on down there to the club and have some brunch before post time.”

“I can’t go like this,” she says, pulling on my t-shirt.

“We can stop by my house and you can change first if you like.”

“Yes,” she says quickly. “Please. I actually love horses. I’ve been riding since I was six. And I’ve been to the races before. It’s a fancy affair.”

“It doesn’t have to be. All kinds of people go to the races.”

“Not to the Club.”

I shrug. “They know me. I have a box there. I go all the time in the summer. In fact, you can see the track from my house. So if I don’t feel like going down there, I just walk out onto the master bedroom terrace and enjoy it from afar.”

“Wow, that must be some house.”

“You’re gonna see it for yourself. We’re only minutes away.”

I pull into the private Boca Del Mar neighborhood and Ivy’s eyes go big as she checks out the houses. “Holy crap,” she says. “You’re really rich. I mean, I see the Porsche and you do own that resort. And I know about the clubs. But this is something, Nolan. I’m breathless.”

“You haven’t even seen the view yet, Ivy. You know what’s funny about this house?” I ask, pulling up to my gate and activating the remote control.