Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I look down. My soaking wet briefs are completely see-through. I might as well be completely naked right now.
She opens her mouth and closes it again. “Wow,” she says again, her eyes fixated on my hard-on beneath my see-through briefs.
My dick twitches under her gaze and hardens even more. “Just stay put,” I say. “Okay? I’m gonna get my clothes from inside and come right back. I’m coming with you.”
“No,” she says, her hand on her hip. “Fuck that shit.”
I laugh. “Fuck what shit? What the fuck does that mean?” I ask.
“Did you see how she talked to me? ‘A Vegas girl, I presume?’ Ha! I’m not gonna stay here and get treated like scum on the bottom of her fucking shoe.” She whips back around and marches toward the elevator at the end of the hall again.
“Kat, wait. You’re drunk. You can’t go alone.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You don’t even have your fucking shoes.”
She stops short and looks down at her feet like she truly had no idea she’s shoe-less. “Well, hmmph. I don’t need no stinkin’ shoes.”
I laugh. She’s so fucking adorable. “You said you never get jealous,” I say. “What happened to that, hmm? ‘I never get jealous unless the guy is mine in the first place.’ Remember that?”
“Yeah, well.” She sniffs the air and wobbles in place. “I guess I changed my motherfucking mind. So sue me, fucker.”
I laugh. “Nice language.”
“Girls can’t say fuck? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I laugh again. “Kat, you’re acting fucking crazy.”
Her face changes from pissed to hurt on a dime. “Why’d you fuck her of all people, Josh?” She wipes her eyes. “She’s so mean. So... snooty. What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking?” I shrug. “Not a whole lot.”
“Why’d you fuck such a mean, mean girl? I hate mean girls.”
I’m utterly confused. “You want me to have meaningless sex with only nice girls?”
She ignores me. “And why’d you let her keep thinking you were interested in her after New York, huh? She obviously thought there was some sort of open invitation afterwards.”
“No. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
“No, you didn’t. No frickin’ way. Or if you did, you didn’t make it clear enough. Total douche move, Josh Faraday.”
“What are you talking about? What’s a total douche move?”
She waggles her finger at me. “I should have known with that whole ‘Mickey Mouse roller coaster’ thing. Douchey. I should have listened to my Scooby Doo senses.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s douche-y that I had sex with Jen?”
“No. That you had sex with a girl who obviously wants a relationship and then left her hanging. That’s douche-y.”
“Oh, and I assume you sat Cameron Schulz down right after you fucked him and told him he has zero chance with you?”
“Well, not then and there, no. I’m not that heartless. But, yeah, I told him later when he called, very clearly, that I wasn’t feeling it. But maybe, now that I think about it, that was a mistake on my part. Maybe I should have said yes when he asked to see me again because a) he’s not a douche, and b) I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this but he’s the shortstop for the goddamned Mariners!”
I roll my eyes. “Gimme a fucking break. You’d rather scratch your eyes out than go out with that tool again—unless, of course, you suddenly have a huge craving for Shirley Temples.”
“Maybe I do,” she seethes. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want right now, come to think about it—a nice, sweet guy who actually respects women and doesn’t fuck any mean bitch who happens to have a great rack—and, did I mention?—who happens to be the shortstop for the goddamned fucking Mariners!”
“I respect women,” I say lamely.
“Maybe this is exactly the wake-up call I needed,” she huffs. She waves her arms at me in a bizarre little frenzy like she’s a magician on meth trying to make me disappear, and then she turns back around and begins stomping away from me again.
“Goddammit, Kat,” I say. “Stop.”
She stops and whirls around, glaring at me.
“What are we fighting about?” I ask earnestly. “I’m totally confused.”
She doesn’t reply. She whirls away from me, again, and saunters away, once again mesmerizing me with the stomping motion of her incredible ass.
“Kat,” I bellow. “You’re a fucking train wreck. Chill the fuck out and listen to me.”
She turns back around to face me and crosses her arms over her spectacular chest. “What?”
I know we’re supposedly in the middle of a heated conversation right now—maybe even a fight—about what I’m not entirely sure because I can’t figure out exactly what I’ve done wrong and why she’s reacting this way—but the truth is I can’t stop looking at her insane body. It’s as gorgeous as her face. She’s perfection from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Jesus. She’s not an eleven like I previously thought—she’s a fucking twenty—way hotter than Bridgette, and Bridgette’s a fucking supermodel, for fuck’s sake.