Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
The description was short, but on the nose. “What was it made out of? Rope and clay? It looked so heavy.”
“She was into you. Maybe you should get her number. You could find out,” Charlotte teased.
And I didn’t like it. The notion that I should pursue another woman when Charlotte was right there, and the fact that she was so compatible sexually—
The realization that over two days I had gone from wanting Charlotte to wanting just Charlotte washed over me like a rogue wave of doom. And she would be leaving on Sunday. There were only two nights left, and one of them was spoken for.
“I think I’m going to pass, thanks,” I responded, standing to go check on the water level in the tub.
She followed me and whipped off her top, then stepped out of her shorts. “It looks good enough. Let’s get in and let it fill up around us.”
“Remember what I said about patience and how you needed to learn some?” I said, but put one foot in the hot water, anyway. “Careful, it might be a little—”
She stepped in, sat down, and reached to adjust the tap to a more scorching setting.
“You’re going to boil me alive,” I complained, but at least I could admire the view while I was dying.
“I know hot baths are bad for your skin,” she explained guiltily, “but my muscles need this.”
The water was high enough to turn on the jets, so I did, and she leaned back in the curve of the tub with a long sigh of appreciation. “Don’t let me fall asleep and drown.”
“Never.” I arranged my feet around her legs to get more comfortable. Even though it was a two-person tub, I was six-three. No bathtub had ever been perfectly comfortable.
“What would your dream bachelor party be?” Charlotte asked, sluicing water down her arms idly.
I considered briefly. “Vegas, maybe? Your brother wasn’t interested in that.”
“He thinks Vegas is a waste of money and time.”
“Well, I love it there. Have you ever been?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Because someone I trust said it’s a waste of money and time.”
“You trust me,” I pointed out. It wasn’t an arrogant assumption. She had to trust me, if she’d done everything she had with me. “I think it’s a lot of fun. Drink all day, gamble all night, maybe take in a cheesy revue of topless showgirls?”
“And I hear there are awesome buffets,” she added. “Okay, you sold me. Maybe I’ll go sometime.”
“I have a hotel on the Strip,” I said without thinking. I stopped myself before I could complete my thought, which had been, we should go together. I didn’t want to sound clingy, after we’d agreed that this was a weekend fling. “You’re welcome to see Vegas on my dime. I’ll give you my secretary’s number.”
“Thanks. I probably will. If I can find someone who’s been before and is willing to go with me and show me all the best stuff.”
I didn’t know how to interpret that statement. Did she want me to offer to take her to Vegas with me? Was that something I could do, or would it be crossing a line?
I settled on a vague, “Well, they can stay for free too.”
An uncomfortable quiet fell between us. I couldn’t remember that ever happening before.
“Thank you,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “This was a lot of fun. Bucket list fun.”
“Wow, bucket list,” I said, blinking in surprise. As wild as what we’d done had been, it was nowhere near some of the stuff I’d done at my private resort. Against my better judgment, I said, “You know, I have a resort for that kind of thing.”
“I know. I’ve heard of Ascend.”
But I’d bet she’d never heard of Ascend Red. My invitation-only private island for perverts and kinksters.
I’ll get her there somehow, my brain declared confidently.
My brain wasn’t supposed to be thinking things like that. My brain was supposed to remember that this was one weekend only. That woman sitting in my bathtub was my best friend’s little sister, and he would have some kind of fatal attack if he found out what we’d been doing.
And the weird thing was, he’d have that attack out of concern for me. Because he viewed his sister as some kind of man-eating she-goblin.
She swirled her fingers over the surface of the already swirling water. “Aren’t resorts like that for middle-aged couples who want to swing? Not that I have any problem with middle-aged people—”
“I’m not middle-aged yet,” I corrected her. I would consider myself middle-aged when I turned fifty and not a day sooner.
“I didn’t mean you,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I thought resorts like Ascend were where bored empty nesters went to reconnect after a quarter of a century being married.”
“There’s some of that,” I admitted. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone should be comfortable exploring their sexuality. Not just twenty-five-year-olds with perky tits.”