Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
She splashed me.
“You should come to Ascend sometime,” I blurted.
“Can I tell everyone that I know the owner?” she asked, playing along as if I were joking.
“The owner could be there.” I did some quick mental calculations to justify why it wouldn’t break our one-weekend plan. She would go home after the wedding. We wouldn’t see each other for… however long it took her to get the time to go on vacation again. “Have another casual hookup weekend?”
Her confident smile faltered. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
She sighed and sank down until her chin touched the surface of the water. “We’re talking about future sneaky secretive stuff.”
“We’re talking about future sexy stuff,” I corrected her.
“But it’s still secret. And the secrets you have that you can’t tell your best friend are multiplying.”
It was an insightful, as well as infuriatingly correct, point. I couldn’t keep stacking up things I had to hide from Scott. It would damage our friendship.
“And at some point, keeping secrets becomes outright lying,” Charlotte went on. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure it could ever work out.”
“Keep the idea in your back pocket?” I suggested.
She mimed folding something up and putting it into the back pocket of the pants she wasn’t wearing. Then she gasped loudly.
“What, what’s wrong?” Was she hurt? Was there some kind of electrical short in the tub?
“I got it wet,” she whispered.
I didn’t follow.
“The secret. I got it wet when I put it in my pocket.” She grinned and shook her head. “I’m tired, okay? I’ve been peopling too much.”
“I don’t want this to be the last night we spend together.” The words came out before I could vet them. They sounded exactly as longing and pathetic as I didn’t want them to sound.
“We haven’t been spending the night together.” It seemed like an uncomfortable dodge more than a joke, despite her laugh. “We’ve been fucking and I’ve been leaving.”
“Fine. I don’t want this to be the last night we fuck and you leave.” Nope, still sounded pathetic. “The wedding activities are kicking into high gear tomorrow. I’ll be at the bachelor party, you’ll be—”
“Sitting in my room watching TBS because it’s the only station hotels ever seem to have?”
“Sure. My point is, this has been fun. But after tomorrow, the only chance we’d have would be Saturday.” And that day was the wedding, and everyone would party into the wee hours. I wouldn’t ask her to choose between me and the wedding reception—and as best man, I didn’t have the luxury of making that choice for myself either. “We can keep things going. If we’re sneaky.”
“Storage closet sneaky?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Exactly. And if you found your way back here, to my room, after the reception…”
“I’ll probably be drunk off my ass. Do you want vomit in your bed?”
I wouldn’t push it any further. But I would deliver my closing arguments. “We don’t have to make firm plans to meet up. But what if we played a game?”
The eyebrow arched again. “What kind of game?”
“The kind where I text you and give you instructions. You follow them. We have dirty fun.” I spread my hands. “That’s all.”
“That sounds like a good way to break up the monotony of having to be at someone else’s wedding functions.” She tilted her head. “What kind of instructions would you give me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d ask you to excuse yourself from dinner to go masturbate in the bathroom. Or maybe I’d tell you to meet me in a linen closet again.” Not very imaginative, but she didn’t hold a monopoly on tiredness in this bathtub. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” She gave me a slow smile.
“So? Are you up for it?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too eager.
“Why not?” She sat up again, water cascading down her impossibly smooth skin. “It’s not like I have a job in this wedding or anything. Everyone else seems to. I might as well set myself some personal challenges.”
“You consider it a personal challenge to have sex with me? That’s not exactly flattering.”
“If you want to be flattered, you’ve come to the wrong place.” She sighed and shaped her arms to the bend of the tub, relaxing against it. “You know what would be perfect right now?”
What I wanted to say was “the reassurance that this isn’t the last time I’ll ever be naked with you,” but that wasn’t what she was looking for. So instead, I said, “What would be perfect?”
“Champagne.” She closed her eyes. “A nice, cold glass of bubbly champagne.”
“Lucky for you, I know where we can get some,” I said, hopping out of the tub and turning the taps off so it wouldn’t overflow by the time I got back in.
If she wanted champagne, I’d give her champagne. If she wanted to go to the moon, I’d figure out a way to get her there.