Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Shit.
This is a big deal.
The biggest deal.
A huge-ass-fucking deal that might ruin our trip and our friendship.
There's a reason why we don't talk about it. Because when we did—
It didn't go well.
"You okay?" He brushes a wet lock behind my ear.
"Me? Yeah. My hair?" I shake my head.
His laugh is easy. Friendly. "You still look gorgeous."
"You think?"
"Yeah." His fingers skim the strap of my bikini top. "I never thought I'd see you rock something so sexy."
"Hey—"
"After what happened."
Oh. Well. As long as we're going there, I might as well dive into the deep end. "It's part of therapy."
"You're in therapy?"
"I told you." I shared a lot of details with him. Technical ones, yes, but details all the same.
He shakes his head. "Way back, yeah, but not recently."
"A lot of therapy. So much." Too much.
"And that's helping?"
A lot, just not all the way. "Thus the outfit." I wave my hands over my chest.
"Therapy is helping you show off your tits?"
My cheeks flush. "Yes."
"Thank fuck for therapists everywhere."
A laugh spills from my lips. It doesn't ease the tension in my chest, but it helps. "Pig."
"I'm kidding."
"Are you?"
"This is part of your healing."
It is.
"That's all I want. Healing."
"Uh-huh." There's a flirtatious tone to my voice. One I don't intend. One I can't take back.
"Yeah-huh." Seriousness drops into his voice. "You are doing better?"
Right. This is an important conversation. This isn't time for flirting or teasing. Maybe just a little teasing. "I am."
"So have you…" He swallows hard. "Have you been with anyone?"
Okay. This is it. I need to say it. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
His eyes fill with surprise. "It is?"
"I need your help."
He nods. "Of course. You know that."
"This is a big ask."
"What is it?"
"I need to have sex."
Chapter Eight
DARE
I need to have sex.
The gears in my brain turn slowly. They're dulled by gin and laughter and an intense desire to remove Val's bikini.
She needs a favor, a big favor.
She needs to have sex.
She needs to fuck you.
What's the wait? Let's go right here, right now.
All right, inside, like Luna said. Gotta be safe. But as long as we're here, might as well get her off.
"You want to have sex?" I repeat the words, expecting them to change, to somehow make sense.
"Yes."
"With…" I can't say it. I just can't. "With someone in particular?"
She swallows hard. "It's an assignment from my therapist."
"Fucking a rando?"
"No. She wants me to focus on ménage-à-moi."
That's a vivid mental image. Val, splayed over her bed, naked, hand between her legs.
Snap the fuck out of it. She needs you.
I take a deep breath and push out a steady exhale. Calm thoughts. Unsexy thoughts. Friendly thoughts.
She continues, "She said, when I'm ready, I should try again. In a safe environment."
"How are you going to do that?"
"With your help?"
I try to find an explanation in her eyes, but my eyes ignore my command. My gaze goes rights to her chest. Her incredibly perfect chest.
These are new. Better.
I know.
And I know I need to touch her exactly how she needs—
I know how she needs. She was too embarrassed to talk to her boyfriend, so she talked to me, asked if it was okay if she wanted the guy to play with her tits all evening. Or if that was selfish.
Be as selfish as you want, Val. I'm happy to torture both of us.
"My help…" I still can't say it. There's no way she means she wants to have sex with me. That's my dick depriving my brain of logic.
"There's a guy." There's hesitation in her voice.
But I'm too relieved to mention it. There's another guy. Someone else. This isn't the end of our friendship. Thank fuck.
"Archie," she says. "My roomie. He's only going to be in town for a few days, then he's leaving, back to London. And he's always liked me, I think. Well, he likes me as a friend. We talk. We hang."
"You hang?"
"He and his ex, Zelda, they invited me into the apartment. They broke up and they wanted an intermediary. So I know a little about his, uh, tendencies."
"And what, you know he's a gentle missionary lover?"
"Basically." She says it without embarrassment or hesitation.
"Do you even like him?"
"Don't be stupid," she says.
"You want to screw a guy you don't like and I'm stupid?" This is just like her first kiss. Only it's with someone else, someone I can't vouch for.
"I can't have that be the last time."
The last time… Wait a second. "What about the guy junior year?"
"We didn't have sex."
"You didn't?" She told me they had sex. Okay, she didn't say those words exactly, but she let me believe they were having sex. She let me believe she was over it enough to have sex.
If she hadn't—
I know I don't have the right to get pissed about that, but I am.
How could she keep that from me?