Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“I guess I understand that.” I placed each quail on the bed of greens as Julia had instructed me. “Neil really liked watching me with another guy.”
Gena’s eyes flared and sparkled with naughty excitement. “Ooh, do tell. I mean, if you want to.”
The only people I’d told about our threesome arrangement with Emir had been Holli and Deja. Deja wasn’t into sharing relationships, and though Holli had thought it was an amazing story, she didn’t have experience to compare. She’d never been the person in a relationship inviting a third in, she’d always been the third.
Maybe Gena would get it in a way they hadn’t; it certainly sounded like she might. Still, I couldn’t meet her eyes, and my face was as hot as the pan I carried to the sink. “It was this…thing. Neil and I went to a sex club in Paris, and we met this guy, Emir. Neil invited him to finger me in a back room. It was insanely hot.”
“It sounds like it!” Gena said with a laugh. “What about Neil? Did he like it?”
“He fucked me against the wall after. It was super rough.” I quickly added, “That’s kind of how we like it when we’re together. So, I would say, yeah. He dug it.”
“Sophie, when I met you, you seemed like a sweet, innocent little thing,” Gena said with a sigh.
“Well, now you know the truth,” I said, dusting my hands off. Don’t forget the mustard sauce! Julia would never let you hear the end of it! I turned to the refrigerator.
“Actually, I knew the truth that night,” Gena said, catching the side of her bottom lip with her teeth. “When I saw you coming out of the men’s room wobbling like a newborn foal.”
Knowing I’d been caught gave me a naughty little thrill. “Yeah, well. It was his birthday.”
“I think it’s great. It’s sweet.” Gena’s voice took on a wistful tone. “That spontaneity and passion.”
I got the uncomfortable impression that she had mistakenly revealed something to me that she may not have wished to. “Shall we take all of this to the dining room?” I asked, changing the subject. I pulled the little steel trolley from its place beneath the counter and started placing the plates on them.
“Oh, wow.” Gena’s expression froze for a blink. “That’s handy. Ian and I have an apartment. It’s, like, twenty steps from the kitchen to the dining room.”
“Oh, the dining room isn’t far.” I nodded toward the second door. “It’s right through there. I’m just lazy, and I don’t like making more than one trip. It’s like when you go to the grocery store and you’ll put a bag on every finger if you can to avoid going back out to the car.”
Gena frowned. “Wait, you do your own grocery shopping?”
“Mhm. Sometimes.” I hadn’t thought of it before, but despite how friendly we were toward each other, Gena didn’t really know anything about my life beyond my relationship with Neil. “I haven’t always been rich.”
“Then, how did you guys meet?”
Usually, I went with “through work” when talking to strangers on the subject. I hadn’t even put the whole story in my book. But Ian probably knew it, anyway. “We met in an airport. We were on the same flight, and it got delayed. We got a room, and he snuck out in the night.” The memory used to hurt, but now that we were so happy together, the sting was fading. “Fast forward to six years later, and he’s my boss.”
“Six years?” Gena’s brows drew together. “You must have been pretty young.”
“I was eighteen,” I said, with an exaggerated that’s-so-not-right grimace. “But I look about the same now as I did when I was eighteen. I lied and told him I was twenty-five.”
“You look the same now as you did when you were eighteen? I hate you,” Gena laughed.
Our dining room is beautiful. A fourteen-person table with a red mahogany top dominated the center, and golden light intensified the warmth from the pale gold paint color. The floor was glossy hardwood that zigzagged in diagonal rows, and the tall, arched windows from the kitchen were echoed in the enormous, rounded picture window that overlooked the sea. The table was set with Herend Rothschild china and Lalique glasses. Neil had picked out a minimalist flower arrangement of three beautiful orange gloriosa in a black porcelain vase, and the lighting in the room was soft, but not dim. Gena helped me slide the dinner plates onto their chargers.
“This house is truly amazing,” Gena said, gazing out at the lawn, softly illuminated below.
“I know. I would never have thought, growing up in a trailer in the U.P., I would ever live in a place like this.” I nodded to the wall. “It’s got an intercom. Wanna call the guys to dinner?”