Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
I’ve never been the star.
I’m barely a supporting cast member. My family has done their best to banish me to the backstage area, determined to protect the baby of the family from all the big, scary things in life.
But suddenly, I don’t want to be protected, I want to be…naked.
Naked and tangled up with this gorgeous man who smells like exotic leather and spice and touches me like he’s had my body memorized for years. I’ve never felt so instantly comforted and electrified by anything in my entire life. He feels so safe, so familiar, and simultaneously like the wildest ride at the county fair, the one I had to wait to go on until my overprotective brothers left for the night.
By the time we come up for air, I’m on fire, sizzling all over in a way I’ve only read about in books up to this point.
“I think the chemistry is covered,” he murmurs, looking as hungry as I feel.
“So covered,” I agree, still breathless. “Meet you in the parking area in five minutes? I have to go tell my sister I’m leaving early.”
He nods. “See you there. I’m the vintage Mustang. Pale yellow. You can’t miss it.”
I won’t miss it, I promise myself as I hurry back toward the wedding.
I’m not going to chicken out. I’m going to seize the day—and the D—and by this time tomorrow, I’ll have put a very big rite of passage in my rearview mirror.
After all, how hard can a one-night stand be?
People far less accomplished than I am do that sort of thing all the time.
Of course, I have no idea just how complicated things are about to get. Or that even nice guys can turn your world upside down without even trying.
Chapter One
Wendy Ann McGuire
A woman about to step out of her
comfort zone with a sexy one-night stand
she didn’t realize she was looking for until
a gorgeous man kissed her senseless…
I’m going to do this.
I’m really going to do it.
I’m about to lose my virginity via one-night stand to a handsome pediatrician, who is an incredible kisser, seems as attracted to me as I am to him, and has called me beautiful twice.
Best of all? He’s leaving town in three days, ensuring I won’t have to deal with any post-coital embarrassment if I prove to be as bad at sex as I’m anticipating I will be.
In general, my self-esteem is healthy, but I’m not a sporty girl. Anything involving cardiovascular activity, strength, or balance is out of my wheelhouse, and sex seems like a pretty physically demanding activity. I will probably need months, if not years, of practice in order to achieve anything resembling sexual fitness.
Heck, it took three months of yoga classes just to touch my toes, and my downward facing dog still looks like an arthritic goat.
But that’s okay. Someday, when I meet the right guy—perhaps a nerdy, STEM enthusiast who loves gathering data and testing a hypothesis as much I do—he won’t mind that my carnal side is a work in progress.
Or, more likely, I’ll have this one, rite-of-passage night before reverting to a sexless existence for the rest of my life.
Honestly, it’s not an upsetting thought.
I’ve had a few boyfriends and kissing is nice, but not as nice as having sole control of the television remote after dinner or a bathroom to myself. I also adore sleeping alone. After years of sharing a room with my sister growing up and various roommates in college—and briefly living with my parents after graduation— having an apartment to myself is heaven.
So really, I have nothing to lose!
Except my virginity…and potentially my peace of mind, if I’m not one hundred percent sure I’m protected from pregnancy and STDs. I’ve been on the pill since I was a teenager to help with cramps, but I’m not sure about condom protocols.
With that in mind, I corner my sister on the dance floor and shout in her ear, “Congratulations! Your wedding was beautiful, and I love you so much, but I have to go.”
“What? Why?” Binx’s brow furrows, but the happy smile remains on her face. She’s been beaming since she walked down the aisle to Seven, and who can blame her? Her husband is gorgeous in the way of action movie stars and professional lumberjacks.
And he adores her, a fact he proves by wrapping her up in his arms from behind and kissing the top of her head as my unruly relatives shout for the band to play Come on Eileen. The McGuire family party favorite is way too loud to talk over, so I hurriedly explain, “I met a man, and I’m going home with him. He’s nice, and I’m not worried about my safety, but I am worried about diseases. Is a condom still good after a couple of years? I have one in my purse, but it’s been there for a while.”