Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Here you go,” Dodge says, transferring me from his amazing arms to the soft, flat plane of my bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll bring in some water and leave it on your nightstand.”
His lips press to my forehead. That’s not where I want them.
“We’re glad you came to the show,” Dodge says. “Hope you enjoyed it.”
“Hope you remember it,” Diesel says, and I can hear rather than see the smile in his voice because my eyes are closed.
I open to just a squint because the room is so bright, and reach for their shirts. “Of course I’ll remember it. It was the best thing I ever saw. Ever.” I try to pull them closer, but a yawn overtakes me, and I cover my mouth so I won’t be rude.
One of them chuckles softly. “It’s too bad you had so much to drink. We could’ve continued the show right here in your bedroom.”
Yes, yes, yes! I’m screaming inside, but only a groan comes out. “Want more show … want to see everything.”
The last thing I’m aware of is a big hand gently brushing hair back from my forehead, two more soft kisses there, and then nothing.
Why is the bakery so sunny and loud today? I know why, of course, but it really does seem like I’m in an alternate universe — one where my head is going to split open at the slightest crinkle of a paper bag and my stomach is filled with jelly.
Worse than the physical sensations are the shame, embarrassment, and regret I’m feeling. There are pieces missing in my recall, but a few memories of me literally throwing myself at the Stanton brothers seem pretty clear.
Becca comes into the shop during a gap between customers. “How’re you feeling?” she asks in a thoughtfully low tone.
I wince just thinking about the current state of my well being. “I’ve been better,” I say finally, “on literally almost every other day of my life.”
“You’ll feel better as the day goes on. Have you had a pain reliever?”
I stop her when she starts to reach into her bag. “The twins apparently left detailed instructions with your sister last night. She greeted me this morning with a big glass of water, an aspirin, and a piece of dry toast.”
“That’s good to hear. Both about the men and about Rachel.”
I drop my head into my hands on the counter. “I’m so embarrassed, Becca.”
She rubs my shoulder comfortingly. “Why?”
“I made such a fool of myself,” I moan.
“What do you mean? You just had a bit too much to drink. It happens to everybody.”
“I came onto them, didn’t I? I remember telling them I wanted to have sex with them.”
“You did,” she says, and I wince again, “but they certainly didn’t mind. Why would they?”
“Oh my god. I’ve never done that before. I would never do that if I hadn’t been drinking.”
A customer, a mother and her small son come in, and Becca busies herself at the coffee counter while I wait on them. As soon as they leave, she picks up the conversation.
“Actually, I was very impressed with your men—”
“They’re not my men,” I say, interrupting her.
She grins playfully. “Last night you said they were.”
“Becca!”
“It’s okay. I don’t think you said that part to them. Anyway, I thought it was great that they didn’t take advantage of you last night.” When I make a face, she asks me what I’m thinking.
“It’s just that … I’ve been thinking that maybe they didn’t sleep with me last night because they don’t really want to. Especially not after seeing me like that.”
My friend shakes her head vigorously. “I can tell you that’s not the case.”
“But they’re performers. Their job is to turn women on. You saw the crowd there last night. They’re really good at making women feel a certain way, you know?”
“I know what you’re saying, but I definitely think there’s something more going on between the five of you,” Becca says. “I saw how they look at you.”
My cheeks heat as I give Becca a skeptical look.
“And they kissed you,” she continues. “They don’t seem like the kind of men who would toy with you.”
“I don’t know …”
“Do you still have reservations about them?” she asks.
“Well, they come on really strong, really fast. I’ve never been with a man who operated that way.”
“They know what they want, and they go after it,” Becca says. “That can be fun.”
I twist the towel I use to wipe the counter in my hands. “Also, my parents protested against their club before it opened. If my mom knew I was even talking with them, she’d have a fit. I can’t imagine what she’d do if she found out I went to the club.”
“Oh.” My friend is quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally she asks, “What does she base her opinion about it on?”