Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“What about you?” Beckett waits for the waiter to leave before voicing the challenge.
“What about me?” she says.
“Have you been with women?”
“No, and I wouldn’t consider myself bi. Or even pan. I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a girl, outside of a friendship sense.”
“But this you’re attracted to, right?” He gestures between the three of us.
Resignation settles in her eyes. “Obviously, since I’m here. But I’ve never done this before.” She sips her drink, then sets it down with a laugh. “I always knew I was an overachiever, but this is taking it to the extreme. My first date in eight months and I choose to have it with not one but two boys.”
“When was your last serious relationship?” I ask curiously.
“We broke up this past spring. We were together about a year and a half. How about you guys?”
I field the question first. “I was with someone in sophomore year, but it was more of a friends-with-benefits arrangement,” I admit. “The last time I called someone my girlfriend was probably high school.”
“Same,” Beckett says. “Dated one girl for all of high school.”
“All four years?” she exclaims.
“Why do you look so surprised?” He seems hurt for a second but then flashes his nothing-gets-to-me smile. “It’s because I’m too hot to be in a long-term relationship, right? Someone this attractive needs to be spreading his love around.”
Charlotte snorts. “Sounds like that’s what you’ve been doing since you got to Briar. Is that why you and Ms. High School broke up? So you could sow your wild oats in college?”
I don’t think she notices the way he tenses, but I do. Beckett hates talking about Shannon. The most I ever got out of him about his ex is that she crushed his heart to dust when she cheated on him.
“Nah, that’s not the reason for the breakup.” His hard jaw belies the light response. “But it was a nice side effect. Sowing oats is fun.” Before she can press for more details, he turns it back on her. “Why did you and your ex break up?” He suddenly curses. “Shit, wait. Don’t tell me you were with that douchebag from class.”
“What douchebag?” I ask.
“This macho a-hole named Mitch. Is that why he was acting like a possessive caveman when he saw us talking?”
“Mitch is my ex,” she confirms. “And yeah, he’s a bit of a dick. Now anyway. He wasn’t this bad when we were together. He could get clingy sometimes, but he wasn’t overly controlling or possessive. The only reason we broke up is because—”
She stops. And doesn’t continue.
“Because what?” I push. “You can’t leave us hanging like that.”
Charlotte takes another sip of her gin and tonic. “We, um, had some incompatibilities.”
“Some?”
“Well, just one.” Her cheeks turn red. “A mismatch of libidos.”
Beckett’s eyes gleam. “Whose libido was the more active one?”
I could take a guess.
Her even redder face confirms it. “Me, obviously. I…like sex.”
Damned if that doesn’t make my cock stir.
“How often do you want it?” Beckett licks the corner of his mouth. Like me, he’s clearly affected by where this has gone.
“Um.” She offers an embarrassed little shrug. “At least once a day.”
“At least?” we say in unison, then exchange a grin.
“Yes.” She heaves a heavy breath. “Even if I’m on my period.” When neither Beck nor I so much as blink, she narrows those big dark eyes at us. “That doesn’t gross you out?”
He shrugs. “That’s why shower sex was invented.”
I snicker.
“It’s really warm in here, right? Are you guys warm?” Her fingers are shaky as she unbuttons her sweater. “I feel like there should be air-conditioning.”
She peels the sweater off her shoulders, revealing a black tank with thin straps. She leaves the sweater on the bench seat beside her and picks up her glass again.
Someone else might think she did that on purpose. Trying to tease us. Seduce us. But Charlotte’s nerves are palpable.
I toy with the label of my beer, running my thumb through the condensation weeping from the bottle. The same riddle that stymied me in the lab takes root again.
Who is the real Charlotte?
And since I might never get this opportunity again, I decide to go ahead and ask her.
Her forehead grooves. “What do you mean, the real me?” she says after I voice the question.
“Yeah, I’m curious about this too,” Beckett pipes up. “Because on the one hand, we’ve got Charlotte.” His posture changes, straightening to look all proper. “The very studious STEM student who can’t let her GPA dip below 3.9999 and who wears these little good-girl sweaters.” He picks up the sweater she just removed. “You wore white cashmere to a pub, sugar puff. It’s a little intense.”
She frowns.
“No, don’t misunderstand,” he says in reassurance. “That prim sorority girl thing is a huge turn-on. But that’s not who you are right now, is it? This”—he lightly runs his fingers over her bare arm—“is Charlie. Charlie’s tits are practically hanging out of her top. She chose not to wear a bra to her date—”