Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
My clit is throbbing so hard, it hurts. “But what if I wind up picking someone you’re more attracted to than me? I’d be able to tell, and I wouldn’t like it,” I say.
He places his fingertip in the cleft in my chin. “That’s literally impossible.”
Holy fucking shit. I seriously can’t breathe right now. I’m trembling. I swallow hard. “We’d do it and never see her again? Because I wouldn’t want this kind of fantasy-thing to follow us into our real life.”
He chuckles.
“What?”
“You just perfectly articulated why I joined The Club.”
I make a face that says, “I see your point” and he smiles broadly.
“You’re amazing, Kat,” he says. He puts his hand under my chin and kisses me. “I think you might be perfect.” He kisses me again. And then again. “You’re kinda freaking me out, actually.”
My head is spinning. I can’t focus. I lean into him and bite his lower lip, totally aroused, and he makes a noise of surprise.
I suck on his lower lip and then pull away. “How would we find her?” I whisper, licking my lips from our kiss.
“It’d be easy to do if we set our minds to it, I’m sure.”
“We’d have to be one hundred percent sure we’d never see her again. I wouldn’t want some horny blonde bitch stalking you afterwards.” I jerk back.
“What?” He looks concerned.
“Jen.”
The aroused expression on Josh’s face instantly vanishes. “No, Kat. Fuck no. Anyone but Jen.”
“No.” I roll my eyes. “Not Jen. Her email, Josh—I want you to reply to Jen’s email. I want you to tell her you’re not interested in her. Right now. Show me.”
He shakes his head and exhales, letting his lips flap together in exasperation as he does. “Way to lick me and punch me in the balls again, PG. Jesus Fucking Christ. Madame Terrorist returns.”
“Open your laptop, Josh,” I say, punching him in his shoulder. “We’re gonna send that bitch an email right now and put her out of her freakin’ misery—and therefore put me out of mine.”
8
JOSH
“Hey, Jen,” I say, enunciating the words as I type them onto the screen of my laptop. Kat’s sitting on my lap, her arm around my shoulder, the side of her head against mine, staring at my screen as I type. “Thanks for your invitation to your birthday weekend,” I write. I stop and look at Kat. “That okay so far, boss?”
“So far, so good,” she says. “Continue.”
“Why don’t you just write it? Something tells me you’re gonna rewrite the whole damned thing anyway, no matter what I say.”
She laughs. “Nope. This is all you.”
I roll my eyes. “Remind me why I’m doing this?”
“You mean why are you replying to Jen at all? Or why are you doing it with me looking over your shoulder?”
“Both.”
“Well, you’re replying to Jen because you’re not a total douche and she deserves a reply. She invited you to her twenty-ninth birthday party, after all. The polite thing to do is RSVP.”
I purse my lips, annoyed.
“And you’re doing it with me looking over your shoulder because this email reply is gonna give me near-orgasmic pleasure. And you like giving me pleasure, right, baby?”
I grumble.
“Aw, poor Josh has to put on his big-boy pants. Come on. Just hit her with some compassionate honesty. The more you do it, the easier it gets. Trust me.”
“I just don’t like hurting people’s feelings.”
She scoffs. “And letting her twist in the wind is gonna hurt her feelings less than an honest email? I’ve been in her shoes with guys, and believe me, a girl feels like a piece of shit when a guy doesn’t even give her the courtesy of a reply.”
“There’s a man alive who didn’t give you the courtesy of a reply?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Turned out the guy was married.”
“Ooph.”
“And I had absolutely no idea.”
“God, men are such pricks.”
She laughs. “Come on. Quit stalling. You’re so damned good at distracting me.”
“I already told her twice. Once in New York and then again on the phone after Reed’s party. She’s just deaf or dumb, I guess.”
“No, you think you told her, but you must not have.” She shrugs. “First rule of PR, Josh: failure to communicate is on the speaker, not the listener.”
I let out a loud puff of air. “I was pretty damned clear both times, Kat.”
“Obviously not,” Kat says. “She’s really into you, Josh—which means she’s hearing what she wants to hear and telling you what she thinks you want to hear. You need to shut the door and turn the frickin’ lock.” She pauses pointedly. “Unless you don’t want to shut the door?”
“Gimme a fucking break.”
She motions to the screen. “Then, type.”
I begin typing again. “I hope you have a great birthday,” I write, saying the words out loud as I do. “I won’t be able to join you. I’m...” I stop typing. “You’re gonna rewrite all of this, aren’t you?”