I pull back, holding her arms at bay. “Emmy, we can’t do this. Look around…” I motion my eyes to the paparazzi who begin walking toward us, phone in hand and looking equally annoyed for taking up his precious time.

She takes it from him, giving thanks before opening her mouth. “Just live a little, Burt. I bet all you do is play soccer then go home and watch porn, then wake up and play more soccer.”

Confused by her mention of porn, I furrow my brows and purse my lips waiting on a further explanation which never eventuates.

“Yeah, I live and breathe soccer. I do watch porn on occasion but the real thing is much better.”

“And, I bet you don’t have time for relationships?” She stands tall, straightening her posture as if she has a hidden agenda.

I don’t want to mention Louisa. It’s still a wound that’s fresh and open, and not up for discussion by anyone. “What’s your point, Chase?” I ask, annoyed.

“We’ve always had fun together even when we hated each other, right?”

I nod, waiting for her to continue.

“So, let’s have fun, Burt. No strings attached, I promise. I don’t need strings... trust me. I just don’t want to think about anything but the moment I’m living in, and if you happen to be there... well, then hip hip, hooray.”

“You want to have fun without strings?” I repeat. “Is that what you’re saying?”

This time, she smiles. “Yep.”

In a lifetime full of propositions, I’ve never expected Emerson Chase to propose something like this. She’s hurting, drunk on revenge, and out to make Wesley’s life equally painful. I know that I’m not stupid. I’m the pawn in her game and when she’s done playing, I’ll be on the sideline watching her live her life with someone else.

I need her. Regardless of her conditions.

Keep the emotions away, take what you want, and reap the benefits from the scorned.

“On one condition,” I tell her, plotting it out so I get what I want. “You stop calling me Burt… and this mustache needs to go.”

“Deal. But it stays on until we’re back at your hotel.”

“Hotel...” I repeat, caught off guard.

Running her hands along the front buttons of my shirt, she looks up at me with fire in her eyes. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough, and maybe I underestimate your ability to read between the lines, Carrington…” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Sex. Fucking. That’s what I’m talking about. Are you in?”

She wants me as much as I want her.

There are no more questions, no more rules, no more anything.

I’m in—all in.

Chapter Thirteen

“A fuck buddy. The best idea ever,

or a recipe for disaster?”

~ Emerson Chase

“About last night, Em...” Wesley corners me in the kitchen on my hunt for Advil. It’s 7:15 a.m. and I’m running on two hours sleep.

When my alarm went off fifteen minutes ago, I’d completely forgotten about a photoshoot which was scheduled this morning at Venice Beach. I pride myself on being punctual and reliable, not wanting to let down the photoshoot crew. The old me would have been up at 4:00 a.m. doing sprints on the beach to get myself looking the best as I can for the shoot.

The new me wants to crawl into a hole and die.

“I’m sorry, Em. I was drinking and shouldn’t have been so forceful. I know you’re angry, I mean fuck, you didn’t get home till after four,” he says in desperation, pacing up and down the kitchen, stopping only to shove a bagel in his mouth.

I’m listening attentively allowing him to speak, but my head is pounding like a bitch and I’m ready to call quits on life and climb back into bed.

Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net