Page 20 of Stroked Hard
“Everything I want to do with you.”
“Give me some examples.”
“Easy.” His voice seems light again, almost playful. “Let’s see, the first is obvious. I would take you on a date where I would be sure to ask you a million questions so I can get to know you better. I would ask you to go on a walk with me just so I could hold your hand. I would want you to drive my car just because I think that’s hot, letting your girl drive your wheels. I would want you to curl up into my chest as we sit in the sand and watch the moonlit waves roll in. I would want to cuddle the fuck out of you while we lounge on my couch and watch a movie. I would also like to hold your hand then, too. Hmm, I would like to go for a hike, and hold your hand, go grocery shopping together where we would buy ingredients to make a meal for a date, go to the wine country just so I can take a picture of you in the vineyards, a bright smile on that fucking gorgeous face of yours and the sun beaming down on your soft-as-hell hair.”
My heart is beating out of my chest, ready to combust on the spot. He speaks of us as if we’re a real couple, as if I would be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.Again I have to ask why? Why me? He’s Hollis Knightly.
Too bad I know it’s not the same.
Men don’t stick around. They might have the best of intentions at first, but in the end, they always leave.
I don’t know what to say. He paints a perfect picture that would never hold up in my reality. Because in my reality, men don’t treat women like that; they don’t cherish them, they don’t worship them. Instead, they make promises they never keep, disappointing you year after year.
“You still there, baby?” Hollis asks.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and raise my armor back into its place. He will not penetrate my shield. “That’s a nice list and all, Hollis, but it isn’t real.”
“It isn’t,” he answers, making my heart fall. Don’t make me explain why. I’m a freaking hot mess right now. “It isn’t real until you finally say yes to taking you out.”
Oh . . .
I should have known that was going to be his answer. It would be nice to call Hollis on it and actually see if he would commit to everything he said but that would be giving in and setting everyone up for failure.
“Not going to happen.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Maybe my rejection is starting to click inside that cocky, smart-ass head of yours.”
He chuckles. “Your rejection is nothing but a ‘maybe’ in my mind. You have no clue how much hope I have for us. It’s consuming, bologna breasts.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh at his nickname. “Don’t call me bologna breasts.” I say the last part a little loud thanks to my outrage, catching the attention of a middle-aged man sitting next to me who then proceeds to glance down at my shirt. Scowling, I say, “Please roam your eyes somewhere else.”
Stunned, the man quickly gathers his items and gets in the boarding lines.
“What?” Hollis asks, confused.
“Nothing, some perv was just staring at my breasts.”
“I’m going to fucking murder him,” Hollis quickly responds. “Put him on the phone. I need his name, address, and preferably social security number.”
“I’m not going to put him on the phone.” I chuckle.
“Melony, move toward the creep and hand him the phone. I’ll be quick.”
“No.”
“Melony!” Even though his voice is rising, I can tell he’s also joking around.
“Not going to happen.”
He sighs into the phone. “Fine, you’ve left me no choice.”
“Oh no, what are you going to do?” I hate that I’m smiling. Damn it, I should have hung up five minutes ago. Well, if I’m wishing to go back in time, I shouldn’t have answered the phone, or any of his text messages since he’s scored my number from Reese who showed zero regret in his misleading request.
Hollis’s playful voice pipes up. “You’ve left me no choice. You’re grounded. Now come out to Indianapolis so I can spank your perfect ass.”
And there he is, the Hollis I’ve grown to know.
