Page 300 and she's still calling Chase the "wrong" type of guy. And is being snooty and judgmental as hell. (Oh, really? He doesn't care about your gross past no matter how much you bring it up and beat him about the head with it, but his one underage infraction is unforgivable? Asshole.) Meanwhile, the last "right" type of guy has blackmailed, attempted to extort sex/rape her. Broken into her place and threatened to kill her.
But the sweet guy who owns his own business but — OMFG! — has a tattoo is a bad bet. Good call, dumbass.
And Chase . . . Well, that fool thinks he's in love with her. The reader has been given absolutely no reason, other than sex, to believe that is true. They don't know each other. She still doesn't care about him beyond sex. She wants to use him, that's all. He's decimated his self-respect for her. And of course when he does find a few shreds of dignity she calls him names for not giving her what she wants anymore. Ugh. Almost done. I do not understand how there is this much of this book.