Good To Be Bad (Good Love #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,37

to beat you fair and square, not because I kept you up for seventy-two hours straight riding you like a cowgirl at her last rodeo.

* * *

West: You. Cowgirl hat. Nothing else. I’m ordering one first thing in the morning.

* * *

Gigi: LOL. Go to sleep! That’s what I’m going to do. My focus is where it’s supposed to be—on the contest, not your cock.

* * *

West: Or your pussy.

* * *

Gigi: Or your hands on my ass.

* * *

West: Or the way your throat works when you swallow.

* * *

Gigi: God. I loved swallowing you. That whole thing was…so hot.

* * *

West: What was that? Sorry. I’d love to discuss that with you further, but a wise woman told me I should focus on handing her her ass in the kitchen, not smacking her ass in the library.

* * *

Gigi: Speaking of libraries.

* * *

West: Oh, did that get a rise out of you?

* * *

Gigi: Well, I do like books. And you have so many. And so many big books.

* * *

West: I’m glad you were admiring my big books, along with my tall shelves.

* * *

Gigi: Seriously, though! A girl could get lost in that library. I could spend hours curled up on that couch, escaping into a story. I’d devour one, then the next one, then another.

* * *

West: So, you’re like Belle.

* * *

Gigi: Be still my beating heart. You know your princesses.

* * *

West: I would write LOL if I were an LOL-er. But yes, I do know the basic pop culture references, thank you. Also, I have a younger sister who loves them. But it raises the question—am I the beast?

* * *

Gigi: The beast is my favorite hero. Want to know why?

* * *

West: The library.

* * *

Gigi: Actually, that’s only half of it. Once you get past the whole keeping her prisoner thing, he’s so…real. He has so much to overcome. His anger, his pride, his uncertainty.

* * *

West: True. He’s not even sure how to eat appropriately, if memory serves? Doesn’t she teach him table manners?

* * *

Gigi: Yes. AND THEN HE REPENTS near the end! Gah. When he realizes he was wrong to keep her and lets her go to see her father, I DIE every time. I SWOON. For a beast. He’s so flawed and real. Therefore, I don’t just love him for his library. I love him for his heart.

* * *

West: You’re quite passionate about this beast.

* * *

Gigi: I’m passionate about most things. In case you haven’t noticed.

* * *

West: Oh, I’ve noticed. And I approve. Though, I’m glad you didn’t pick Snow White’s Prince as your favorite. If you had, we might not be able to see each other again.

* * *

Gigi: What? Why would I? He’s the most boring prince ever.

* * *

West: Right? Could he be any duller? He doesn’t even have a name.

* * *

Gigi: I call him Prince Dullsworth the Lame Who Has a Weirdly Red Mouth. Also—did you just say you’d stop seeing me if I liked the wrong prince?

* * *

West: Yes. I did. I have standards, Gigi.

* * *

Gigi: Standards are hot, Prince Panty-Melter of Brooklyn Who Has a Ladder in His Library.

P.S. That sounded dirty, didn’t it?

* * *

West: Yes, and I expect nothing less from you, Princess Kinky Who Wants to Fuck on My Ladder.

* * *

Gigi: Now I know what I’ll dream of tonight…

* * *

West: And on that naughty note, I must go. Get my beauty sleep. Plot world dessert domination. That sort of thing.

* * *

Gigi: So, it’s sleep that makes you so pretty? Good to know. Sleep well.

* * *

West: Goodnight, beautiful. See you soon.

* * *

Gigi: Soon.

15

Gigi

I can do this. No problem.

No conflict of interest.

No violation of my Rules of Engagement.

There’s no reason I can’t pop by a chocolate shop and buy a few gifts for my friends.

Warning my staff the next day that I might be late returning from lunch, I swing out of Sweetie Pies into the warm summer sun and stroll the few blocks over to Cocoa is Love. It’s a perfect day for purchasing a few completely friendly gifts for people who are all just friends and family.

Pushing open the door, I step into the air-conditioned shop and inhale the mouth-watering scent of really good chocolate.

I say hi to the woman in linen behind the counter then begin my hunt. Perusing the shelves, I consider each bar with care. That’s what shopping for others is—a chance