I mean, this isn't a romance novel, you know, hun? Just telling a guy that you love him may not get rid of all his wild ways.
No, I need to be sure that he's changed or at least that he's willing to make a commitment before I do that.
Until then, I'm okay sharing my body. But I just
can't get to that point where I can share my heart.
Six.
That's how many days ago I swear Connor was about to tell me that he loves me.
Why is this so important to me?
It's just three little words. They don't even mean anything to most people.
But to someone like Connor D'Avington, who prides himself on telling the truth and being upfront, it means a good deal.
Connor has always gone through life telling women that he's only there for the fun. He tells them he's never going to love them and they can hop on board, literally, and enjoy the ride. They totally do, but after that, when he's ready to move on they usually get upset.
Well, Connor never told me to hop on board. But he hasn't said anything else either.
It's like he doesn't know what we're doing.
Like the blind leading the blind.
Ten.
That's how many hours a day the D'Avington account is taking up of my life at work.
I swear to you that sometimes when I sit down and look at just the insane levels of shit we have to clean up from Connor's life, I wonder how I could ever be attracted to someone like him. I mean, I've always gone for the solid, sophisticated and silent types.
At Harvard, they were usually members of the Porc.
See, that's what I mean? The Porc actually stands for the Porcelain.
I'm not some snob, I swear. But that's just the kind of guys I used to date.
But maybe that's why I used to be so bored with men. Because after trading the effete Ivy League legacy for a real bad boy royal, I don't think I'll ever be able to think of another man again.
Zero.
I swear that's how many men I've thought of in my head since Connor and I have been going out.
I mean, I'm not even fantasizing about any other guy.
It's like no other man exists in my life.
I almost want to say that Connor D'Avington has ruined me for other men.
It's true. I mean, how am I supposed to really think of other men and fantasize about them when he's fucking me three times a day? Ninety times in thirty days, remember? Not including blowjobs.
And to be quite honest, I couldn't care less that I haven't thought of another guy since Connor came in.
I mean, I look at guys nowadays as almost a guy does, like beings that take up space that I interact with. Do I look at them and wonder if I want to have sex with them? I honestly never get to that point.
Because before I can have even a single sexual thought about them, thoughts of Connor push everything aside.
I may be thinking about him a little bit too much.