Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
"When I was thirteen?"
She nods.
"Is that a compliment?"
"You know you look good."
"I like to hear it," I say.
She smiles, but this time, I can't place it. "What do I have to do?"
"Huh?"
"To get ready for the party?"
Right. No time to stare at her tits (not that I can see much with the baggy tee). Time for tactical retreat. "I set up here. You get snacks and drinks."
"Anything I want?"
"Go wild."
"Oh my god, an American grocery store for the first time in four months." She lets out a loud sigh. "What a treat. Thanks, Dare."
She moves into the bedroom and returns in a sexy-as-sin sundress. Some blue number that shows off her perfect cleavage and allows very easy access to her lush thighs.
Not that I think about diving between her thighs.
Not that I think about dying between her thighs.
Nothing like that.
"Can we talk?" she asks. "After the party."
"We can always talk."
"But this, uh… it's something important I have to ask you."
Fuck me. Let's go, right now. I'll be ready in three seconds, flat. Two. One—"We can talk now."
"I'd rather talk later, if that's okay."
"Is it a big deal?"
"I don't think so. But you might."
So it is a big deal. Which means my dick needs to calm the fuck down. "Okay. We'll talk tonight."
Relief fills her eyes. Her shoulders drop. Her lips curl into a smile.
She hugs me goodbye (I make sure it's one of those chest-only hugs) and leaves, and I spend an hour turning over her words.
There's no way she's about to say let's spend our two weeks together in bed.
But what else could she possibly have to tell me?
For an hour and a half, I set up in the courtyard. I hang streamers, I drape towels, I arrange lounge chairs.
The place is nearly perfect when Luna arrives to help finish the preparation.
Like Patrick, Luna works at Inked Love (she's our admin for the summer). Like Patrick, she's certain I'm madly in love with Val. And, for some reason, my usual argument that's ridiculous feels as hollow as the chest cavity where my heart is supposed to be.
"So…" She meets me at the cooler carrying a massive bag of ice. "Where's Val?"
"Picking up stuff."
"You sent her away?" She frowns and brushes a silver-blond strand behind her ear. She's in one of her typical cool girl outfits. High-waist jean shorts. Crop top over her bright bikini. Chucks. Enormous sunglasses.
"She wanted to pick snacks."
"And you couldn't do it together?" she asks.
"You want to help with the party or gossip?"
"That's a stupid question." She fills the cooler with ice and a twelve-pack of sparkling water (her boyfriend is a recovering alcoholic) and slips onto a lounge chair. "You're basically ready."
I can't argue with that.
"So…" She raises a brow. "When did she arrive?"
"Last night."
"When did she get here?" she asks.
"Five a.m."
"She couldn't wait to see you?" She presses her hand to her chest and lets out a dreamy sigh. It's very unlike her. But, hey, love makes fools—or assholes—of us all.
"We have a ritual."
"Oh?"
"What do you want?" I ask.
She motions to the chair next to her. "Come on. Sit. Talk. Let me advise you."
"How will you do that?"
"You like her."
No comment.
"Oh my god, Dare! You didn't deny it."
"'Cause you're a broken record," I say.
"Okay, okay. But allow me a hypothetical."
"You're way off base," I say.
She shakes her head.
"She wants to tell me something."
"That she's in love with you!"
"Really? You think that could wait?" I ask.
"She's probably nervous! You've been friends for so long. How can she risk that? She loves you that much. How romantic."
"You're going to make me throw up," I say.
"Are you drinking this early?"
I shoot her a look.
"You're scared."
"It's probably a guy."
"A boyfriend?"
"Yeah." Which isn't a big deal. She dated a guy junior year. I was a little worried about her, sure, but I was never jealous, not of their romance.
His ability to see her every day, keep up with her intellectually, sleep in her room?
That, sure.
But not their kissing. Or touching. Or fucking.
It's not like I imagined I was the one in her bed, with my hand up her shirt and her lips on my neck.
Fuck.
"Oh my god." Luna laughs. "You have it so bad."
"I do not."
"You're thinking about her right now."
"How do you figure?"
"I know the look of a man in need."
"Oh?" I raise a brow. "Something I should ask your boyfriend."
She smiles with pride. "Ask all you want. He won't tell you."
"Will you?"
"I enjoy making him wait."
"Orgasm denial kink?"
"Not denial," she says. "Just… dragging out the pleasure."
She's not usually this upfront with me, especially about sex.
Don't get me wrong. We're friends. But we have a pretty typical male/female friendship. Despite the general level of horniness at Inked Love, Luna and I rarely discuss sex in specific terms.
There's a weirdness to it.
Because there might be an implication she wants me. Or I want her.