Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“So cute,” Sarah agrees.
“And he figures out he can time-travel by going into a closet and then he meets The Notebook girl and—what’s her name, Sarah?”
“Rachel McAdams. She’s so cute.”
“So cute. So, anyway, I won’t spoil it for you, in case you ever wanna watch it but it’s so good.” Kat lets out a long, swooning sigh.
Sarah mimics Kat’s swooning sigh. “So good,” she agrees.
Jonas and I exchange a look. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck either of these two women have said for the past three minutes—I pretty much tuned out after Kat said the words The Notebook—but, damn, both of these girls are fucking adorable.
Clearly, Jonas agrees with my assessment because he’s begun nuzzling Sarah’s neck and whispering to her.
Sarah makes a sound of sheer happiness. “Oh, how I love you, hubster,” she breathes.
“Oh, how I love you, Mrs. Faraday,” Jonas replies.
Sarah runs her hand through Jonas’ hair. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw Mariela today. You were beautiful, love.”
“Thank you for arranging that for me. I’ll never forget it.”
“Yeah, thank you, Sarah Cruz,” I say. “I’ll never forget today as long as I live. It was amazing.”
“It was my pleasure. It warmed my heart to see the Faraday boys looking so happy.”
“Mariela had quite a house, didn’t she?” Kat says. “I’d say Mariela’s livin’ large in the ol’ Vee-Zee, baby.”
“Half a million bucks goes a really long way here,” Jonas says, referring to the finder’s fee money we secured for Mariela (along with equal shares for Sarah’s mom, Jonas’ friend Georgia, and Miss Westbrook).
Sarah whispers something into Jonas’ ear and he kisses her tenderly.
I look away from them and I’m met with Kat’s intense gaze. Oh. I know that look—it means my unicorn’s feeling frisky.
Kat runs her fingertip over my bottom lip. “Are you all done with your work, honey pot pie?” she whispers.
I chuckle. “Someone’s been hanging out with Sarah Weirdo Cruz today.”
Kat giggles. “Yeah, that was extremely Sarah-Cruz-ish, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. And, yes, I’m all done with my work.” I stick out my tongue and lick the tip of Kat’s finger. “I’m all yours for the rest of the night, hot momma.”
Kat presses her forehead against mine. “Mike Wazowski,” she whispers.
I grin.
Kat presses her lips against my ear and whispers softly, “I’m so frickin’ horny, I’m gonna blow.”
“God, I love pregnancy hormones,” I whisper back.
Kat smiles.
Out of nowhere, Jonas makes a kind of growling noise and abruptly stands with Sarah in his arms, lifting her like a rag doll. “Good night, guys,” he says. “It seems Mrs. Faraday and I have a date with a Venezuelan mattress. Come on, wife.” Without waiting for our reply, Jonas barrels away like the gorilla he is, happily carrying his love-monkey-bride in his protective arms.
“Good night, guys!” Sarah calls to us, just before their bedroom door closes with an emphatic thud.
“Those two are so freaking cute,” Kat says.
My stomach clenches with envy. Fuck me. I want to say, “Come on, wife!” to Kat, exactly the way Jonas just said that to Sarah. And, fuck me, I want to say “Mrs. Faraday and I have a date with a Venezuelan mattress!” too, even if, yes, that’s a supremely cheesy thing to say. Shit. At least fifty times this past week in Brazil, I almost blurted, “Will you marry me, Kat?” But I refrained every time—of course, I did—because the sane part of my brain knows I’ve already asked Kat to marry me without a ring or ironclad plan in place and that she replied, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.” So, obviously, another spontaneous (flop-dick) proposal ain’t gonna cut it a second time around.
Kat skims her lips against mine, yanking me out of my thoughts, and I slip my tongue eagerly into her mouth. In reply, she presses herself into my hard-on.
“How are you feeling, beautiful?” I ask, kissing her softly.
“Good,” she says. “I didn’t barf once today.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “Sexy. You know I can’t resist a woman who doesn’t barf.”
“One might even say it’s your Achilles’ heel, although I seem to recall you’re also quite willing to fuck a woman who barfs on your shoes.”
“Not ‘a woman’ who barfs on my shoes,” I say. “Only you.”
“Sweet-talker.”
“Okay. Enough chitty-chat,” I declare suddenly. I stand and swoop Kat into my arms, and Kat practically growls with excitement. “It’s time to put those pregnancy hormones of yours to maximum use, Party Girl.”
Thirty
Kat
“I’ve got a present for you,” I coo as Josh lays me down on the bed.
“Oh yeah?” Josh pulls off his shirt, revealing his gloriously muscled and tattooed torso.
“Oh my God,” I say, ogling him.
Josh pulls down his pants and briefs, letting his straining donkey-dick spring free.
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” I blurt. “I feel like my clit’s a lawnmower and you just yanked its starter-cord.”