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)
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again very soon and making each and every one of your (highly detailed) sexual fantasies come true. Exclusively yours, Playboy.”
“Oh. My. God,” I say breathlessly. My crotch is exploding with arousal in my panties and I’m panting like a Pekingese running a hundred-yard dash.
“What does it say?” Dax asks.
I press the note against my chest. “It says, ‘It’s none of your frickin’ business, Dax Morgan.’”
“Aw, come on.”
“No way.”
He makes a wry face. “So what’s the status with you two—are you in a relationship or... ?”
“I have no freaking idea what our status is. Whatever we’re doing defies standard labeling.”
“The guy sends you a fifteen-hundred-dollar gift and you don’t know the status? That’s a lot of money to spend on a gift for some chick you’re just hanging out with.”
I shrug. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Are you at least dating?”
I sigh. “Yeah. I think so. I mean we’ve both made it clear we’re really into each other. But I don’t know where things are headed—he gets really skittish the minute he feels like he’s being penned in. But on the other hand we agreed to be exclusive.”
“You’re exclusive? Well, then it’s way beyond dating.”
I sigh. “One would think. But we’re exclusive only temporarily. It’s hard to explain.”
“Temporarily exclusive? That’s a new one. I gotta steal that.”
“It was me who suggested it.”
He flashes me a look that says, “You’re an idiot.”
I rub my face. “This week was just a unique set of circumstances. We were together day and night, doing this crazy thing to help Sarah, and it was this incredible, fairytale existence. It’s like we were in the fantasy suite on The Bachelor for an entire week—and my feelings for him were so freaking intense and surreal—and now it’s like the show is over and the cameras are off and it’s back-to-reality time.”
Dax nods.
I shake my head. “I just don’t know if what we felt in Vegas will translate to real life. Plus, he lives in L.A. and travels a ton and I’m here, obviously. So, I dunno, it might be kinda tough to keep the fantasy alive.”
Dax motions to the Sybian. “Looks like he’s giving it the ol’ college try.”
I bite my lip to suppress a huge smile.
“I must say, giving you a Sybian as a gift is an interesting choice—he could have gone with shoes or a purse.”
“Oh, he did. Both.”
“And you still don’t know if he’s serious about you? I think you might be overanalyzing things here. The guy’s making his feelings pretty clear.”
I sigh. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up.”
“This is so unlike you. Why are you being so...?”
“Analytical?”
“Annoying.”
I make a face. “I don’t know. Josh and I are just so incredibly...” I was about to say sexual, but then I remember I’m talking to my little brother, not to Sarah. “Physical,” I say, opting for a tamer word to finish my sentence. “The physical chemistry is so off the charts, it makes me wonder if I’m just in some sort of hormone-induced coma and not seeing things clearly.”
“Just because you have incredible physical chemistry with the guy doesn’t mean it’s not serious, too,” he says.
“So I’ve heard. But from what I’ve seen personally, at least as an adult, it’s one or the other.”
He pulls back and looks at me, stupefied. “Are you serious?” he asks.
I nod.
“Jizz, that’s fucked up. How’d you get so fucked up?”
I shrug.
“You can have off-the-charts physical chemistry without it being ‘serious,’ for sure—and thank God for that.” He snickers. “But it doesn’t work the other way around: you absolutely cannot have something serious if you don’t have physical chemistry. The fact that you think it’s one or the other is so fucked up, it’s pathetic. It’s like you’ve got a... what’s the word I’m looking for... that complex thing?”
I make a face. “A Madonna-whore complex?”
“Exactly. Only in reverse. What’s it called when a woman thinks that about a guy?”
“A Jesus-manwhore complex?”
We both laugh.
“Yeah, I don’t think society has a cute little phrase for when it’s a guy.”
“What about that Nate guy?” Dax asks. “You guys were pretty serious, right?”
“Serious, yes, but we were sort of blah in the physical department,” I say. “At least it was blah for me.”
“Ooph. I think maybe you do have a Madonna-whore complex when it comes to guys, sis, whatever it’s called—like you somehow think the guys who turn you on the most can’t possibly be boyfriend material.”
I make a face. He might have a point there. Hmm.
“But that’s the whole point of this grand experiment we call life—finding the serious stuff and the physical stuff all rolled up together into one fucking awesome person.
“How’d you get so deep at such a tender age?” I ask.
Dax grabs my hand and kisses it, a move that instantly makes me think of Josh.
“That’s not even a remotely deep thing to say, sis,” Dax says. “It’s pretty fucking basic. I think maybe you’re just particularly stupid when it comes to relationships.”