Page 7 of Counting On You

“Rules?” Chase’s brows shoot up. “What rules?”

I smile at him knowingly. As much as I love my brother, some things aren’t meant for his prude ears.

Some of my rules:

I never do repeats. Ever. I’m fairly proud of that. If you’re a prude, don’t ask me what my magic number is because it’s only a number. To you, anyway.

I don’t hire prostitutes or sex workers or strippers. And I don’t do married women or religious fanatics or virgins—not because they’re not hot, but because I have my own standards. These types of women get too invested in the idea of marrying, and I have no time for healing their broken hearts. I’m not a lifeboat, either. I don’t save anyone from their mundane lives.

I don’t do love…or commitment. As such, I avoid women who are looking for the white picket fence, or a rock on their ring finger. I’m a business strategist and marketing expert who always keeps things uncomplicated, because commitment = mess, which equals drama, which equals trouble.

My point is: don’t ask me for my phone number. Don’t tell me you’re married, or want kids. Don’t ask me how many women I fucked before you, just like I won’t ask you how many breaths you’ve taken in this little thing called life.

To me, it doesn’t matter.

You may think I’m a manwhore.

I assure you, I’m not.

“Let’s just say,” I respond in response to his inquiring look. “I just like to give back the enjoyment and learn from experience the same way you would read a book and savor each and every nuance of it.”

“Just do it, Kade,” Chase says quietly. “It’s only for six weeks.”

Smiling coldly, I push a glass across the table toward him. “What about my game plan?”

“What about it?”

I wave my hand. “Don’t tell me it’s all been in vain. I only have a few women left.”

He stares at me with no sense of humor. “How many are we talking about?”

I lift my hand. He stares at my three fingers. “Jesus, dude. I’m surprised you haven’t caught an STD yet.”

“I’m not stupid. You know how careful I am.” I lean back, lifting the glass to my lips, but I don’t take a sip yet.

“You know what? Forget I even said that. I don’t want to know.” He shakes his head and releases a sigh. “Look, I’m not judging you, all right? You’re my brother and no matter what you do, it’s your business and I’ll always have your back. But…” He wets his lips, hesitating, probably choosing his words. “Please, just do the six-week program. After that… resume whatever you were doing before, just be more discreet about it. Fuck, I’ll even be your wingman. Anything, as long as I can keep you out of trouble.”

I give a little snort.

Chase being my wingman would be the worst thing that could happen to me. He’s married and ready to be a father.

“Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I ask.

“I…”

“No, answer the question, Chase. Do you know what you’re expecting of me?” I ask sharply. “You request that my dick go on hiatus. That’s not human. It’s fucking immoral. Fucking torture. I wouldn’t expect that from my worst enemy.”

“Look, if monks can do it, you can do it.”

“I’m not a monk. I’m an adult with a healthy appetite for sex.”

Chase holds out his hand, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I get it. You need it.”

I cringe at his choice of words.

He makes me sound like Ineedsex in a bad way.

“I’m not a sex addict, all right,” I say. “I just enjoy it. That’s all it is. A hobby, if you have to define it. Like I said to the board before, I like the workout, the challenge, and the chase because I’m a man of many aspirations. As long as I have a goal in sight, I like to sweep right in and finish it in one fast ride. See things through, so to say. I said that to the company board. My honesty didn’t help my case. They had little understanding for my “sex escapades” as they called my little encounters. This ultimatum is not fair.”

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