Page 95 of The Boyfriend Goal

It’s not like my bedroom is some inner sanctum of man secrets. I don’t have a hunting knife hanging over the bed, or a collection of Star Wars bobblehead dolls I’m afraid to let anyone see.

In fact, there’s not much to it.

It’s just a big room I really like to sleep in, but I try to look at it through her eyes. She’ll try to read me in the decor, because that’s what she does.

I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, tensing briefly. Didn’t think of this before, but I hope she doesn’t figure I’m a player since this room gives off that vibe. It’s so sleek and monochrome that it screams playboy cool when that’s not who I am. The wooden flooring is polished. The walls are white and minimalistic, with hardly anything hanging on them—just a couple black-and-white beauty shots of San Francisco. I asked the decorator to make it feel like I was part of this city, this team, these fans. But I didn’t choose the pics. Or hang them.

On the far wall, a massive king-size bed takes center stage, its silver metal frame glinting under the light. The bed is covered in pristine white linen. Plush gray pillows are scattered by the headboard.

There’s one picture framed on the nightstand.

I wince, hoping she doesn’t think this means I don’t like roots. I’m just not into decorating. But I hadn’t thought how it might look to someone else. “You’re the first woman to see it,” I say, scratching my jaw.

Josie turns to me, a smile shifting her pretty lips. “Lucky me.” She sounds enchanted.

Well then. I guess that’s all it takes to show her I’m not a player—the truth trumps the decor. I smile back at her. “Guess it’s a little like a hotel room. Pretty sure you like those.”

“I do. They make me feel a little…like I’m getting out of my comfort zone.”

A wave of heat rolls down my spine. That’s what she wants. To mix things up. Break up the routine. She came to the right guy.

But before I can strip her naked and do unholy things to her, she zeroes in on the framed picture, beelining toward it on the nightstand. She stops, stares at it, then turns to me, like she’s busting me. “You have a picture of a dog.”

It’s a shot of a black-and-white Collie mix catching a frisbee. “Yeah, that’s Frosty. My sister’s dog. She adopted him a year ago. He’s a senior—that’s why she calls him Frosty.”

She blinks. “Your sister’s dog? You have a framed photo of your sister’s dog?”

“He’s cute,” I say easily, but maybe defensively.

Shaking her head, Josie advances toward me. “Shut up. Nothing makes me want to lose my clothes faster than that.”

Holy shit. This is my lucky night. “Good because you’re about to,” I say, then jerk her against me so she feels the length tenting my pants. I kiss her hard, unhooking her bra this time, then shoving her jeans down. She steps out of them. “Last night,” I begin, kissing the hinge of her jaw, “over text. You said no one had asked you what you’re into.”

“Right,” she says, breathless as I coast my mouth along her chin.

“Tell me what else you like. Tell me what you watch.” I stop, meet her gaze, give a tug to a handful of her chestnut hair. “Besides pigeon porn.”

She laughs, but then asks carefully, “Really?”

“Fuck yes.” It’s decisive. I want her to know I mean it completely.

She nibbles on the corner of her lips, then breathes out, like she needs courage. I curl my hands around her hips. “You’re not going to scare me off,” I say, since I sense she needs some reassurance that it’s okay to crack open her box of turn-ons. I will treat them with care, and, probably, horny gusto.

“I’ve never told anyone.”

That only makes me want to know more. “Tell me,” I say, a demand, but I hope she can hear the vulnerability in my voice. I want to be the man she shares her dirty wishes with. I’m not interested in foisting my likes onto her. “It turns me on to give you everything you want,” I add, so she’s clear—I’m game to give her all her filthy fantasies.

There’s a pause, then she says, “If you insist.”

I grind my dick against her so she gets the message. “I do. I fucking do.”

With a here goes nothing shrug, she says, “There’s this site I like. It caters to women. And I find myself watching videos that have these types of scenes.”

Then she tells me the scenes, the things, the wishes.

I am blown away. The night I met her our chemistry sparked. But I had no way of knowing she was so perfectly dirty.

“You want all that?” I ask.

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