Dear Future Ex-wife Read online Jillian Quinn

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
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I knew Nate was a walking orgasm.

And I thought I could resist him.

I thought… well, I’m not sure what I was thinking.

I guess I wasn’t.

Because if I were, I wouldn’t have given in so quickly. I wouldn’t have indulged him. My willpower diminishes around Nate, fading into oblivion the second he touches me. Those touches are everything, though. He was right about the real thing being unforgettable. We only kissed, and my head is already swimming with every fantasy I’ve ever had about my former best friend.

Power walking through the lobby, I wave to the clerk sitting behind the welcome desk and head straight toward the elevators. Nate said he needed a minute. We need lots of minutes to contemplate what just happened between us. Now that we’ve shattered the boundaries of our friendship, there’s no chance of us ever being friends in the traditional sense. Friends with benefits, maybe. Ugh, why is my mind going there? I promised myself I would hold my ground and not give in to temptation, no matter how strong. But I couldn’t pass up his challenge.

What’s one kiss, I’d thought. No kiss has ever meant that much to me.

I hit the button on the wall to call the elevator, and when the doors open, I shuffle inside. Poking my head out, I take one last look. No sign of Nate anywhere. I slide my keycard into the slot on the wall and hit P1 for Nate’s penthouse apartment. The doors close, whisking me up to the top floor of the building in peace. The elevator doors open in the foyer of his apartment, and bright white light hits me in the face. Nate left on every light, which makes me want to give him a talk about energy efficiency. What a waste to leave all of these lights on when he’s not home.

My heels clack on the white marble floor that spans the length of the first floor. The open concept layout creates an inviting feeling with the kitchen overlooking the living room, which has gorgeous views of the city. I can see The Philadelphia Museum of Art on two sides of the corner apartment. Nate chose well. He’s always had impeccable taste.

As I climb the spiral staircase to the second floor, I glance down at the living room. Every inch of the room is perfect, from the pristine cream-colored couches to the shiny glass tables. There’s no way Nate decorated this place. It feels more like a museum than a home. The space has a woman’s touch, a very cold woman. Despite all the beauty of each carefully selected piece of art and furniture, the apartment has no life. It’s what you would expect from a staged home.

The elevator doors ding below me, and I lean forward, holding onto the railing to get a good look at Nate. His oxford is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. My pink lipstick is smudged at the corner of his mouth. He looks how I feel. Like I’ve just had the best sexual experience of my life without actually having sex.

My entire body radiates with heat as he moves into the living room. He shoves a hand through his dark, wavy hair and sighs. His eyes roam as if he was expecting to see me. Watching Nate from a distance feels weird but also kind of exciting. He pours himself a glass of bourbon from the mini bar in the living room and tips the glass to his lips, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. A combination of stars and bright city lights sparkle through the tinted glass.

“You can at least come down here and have a drink with me,” Nate says with his back to me.

“How did you…”

He points at the window and then turns around to face me. “I can see your reflection in the glass.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “Well, it’s getting late.”

“Come.” He tips his head toward the couch. “Drink with me.”

I shake my head. “I should get ready for bed. I have a big day tomorrow.”

“Just one.” He approaches me, his gaze unwavering.

I take a deep breath when he stops at the bottom of the stairs. Don’t come up here, I want to say but hold my tongue. As if Nate can read my mind, he rests his dress shoe on the bottom step and looks up at me. He sips from his glass, knocking back half the amber liquid in one gulp.

“You drink too much.”

He smirks. “And you don’t drink enough.”

“I have a lot on my plate right now.”

“So do I.” He raises his glass. “This takes the edge off. You should try it.”

If I go downstairs and drink with him, I know what will happen. Nate will find a way to get me to keep drinking, and before I know it, we’ll be in his bed. A kiss was enough for one night. Anything more than that would make it impossible to work together. And with where my head is at right now, I can’t trust myself around Nate. It wouldn’t take much for him to seduce me with his words and his fiery touches.


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