Page 55 of The Hate Date

Six Days Later

I burst through the garage into my house like a bat out of hell.

Jog up the stairs to my office. Grab my iPad. It’s dead. I plug it in and wait. While it’s charging, I change into sweats. Make a pot of tea.

Catch my breath.

I’m running on adrenaline, not quite sure what compelled me to flee JJ’s this afternoon like I was being held captive. Other than things got too intense.

When he was on a business call, I bailed.

Without saying a word.

Not my finest moment, to say the least. I guess I’ve still got a lot of emotions to unpack.

Returning to the den, I take a minute to regroup. Admire the workmanship in my favorite room. Over the past few months, I’ve completely renovated the house to get rid of all of the bad Harrison juju. My final project was this old, stodgy office, which is now painted white and features wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with colorful romance novels. An electric kettle with a ton of mugs for tea. Two overstuffed, double-sized chairs. A pile of cozy blankets.

My own little BookTok slice of heaven.

From the time I was on my own in Hawaii, there’s not much I’ve loved more than getting lost in a romance novel.

I’ve read the sexiest, most erotic books with the most creative backdrops and scenarios. Motorcycle clubs, hockey players, firefighters, small towns, rockstars, vampires, reverse harems, tattoo parlors, restaurants, bars, snowboarders…you name it, there’s a romance novel about it.

I’m obsessed.

Though I have a new personal favorite trope now. Billionaires.

Talk about relating. I couldn’t believe it when I stumbled on a treasure trove of authors who write about insanely wealthy men. Up until my sexathon with JJ, I’d been voraciously reading for the past three weeks. At first, I told myself it was to prove that my aversion to men with money was justified. After all, in my experience, billionaires are arrogant assholes. Selfish pricks. Womanizers. Cheaters.

Just like my ex.

The fictional billionaires all have reasons for their arrogance. Are secret philanthropists. Workaholics. Loyal. Excellent lovers.

Just like JJ?

Yes and no. Just like Joar.

Omigod. I had to get away from him. Take a sex break. I’ve spent almost a week in his stunning penthouse apartment. Mostly naked. Generally fucking. Or sucking. Or cuddling. Sometimes sleeping. I’ve never had so much sex in a six-day time span. Or a month time span. Maybe even a six-month time span.

I’m sex drugged.

Scared shitless.

Catching too many feelings. Too fast. Too intense.

Tonight, I needed to be alone. To curl up with a book. Give my tender pussy a rest. Get some perspective. Because I’ve been sucked right into Joar’s vortex just like I was afraid of.

I feel out of control, like I’m hurtling into my next great heartbreak.

At some point, he’ll get tired of me and move on to the next conquest. Or, he’ll leave for a month to work on some mysterious acquisition in London.

Either way…

My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen. It’s Joar. I let it go to voicemail. Then, shut it off. Place it away from me on the desk and return to my book.

For a few hours, I manage to get lost in the tragic tale of a beautiful woman who is evicted from her apartment, then rescued from homelessness by three mysterious but handsome billionaire best friends, who happen to be searching for a female they can share.

My first reverse harem book is eye-opening. It never even occurred to me that one woman could have two cocks in her pussy and one in her ass. Although, Joar is so hung he’s the size of two average-sized cocks, so I’m able to more than imagine it.