Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
8
MAX
My heart stops.
Holy shit.
Marnie is walking straight toward me, her red hair practically glittering in the sunshine. At least, I think I’m where Marnie is headed. I glance behind me, thinking maybe Selena is standing there. But nope. There’s nobody behind me or anywhere nearby. Even the uniformed bartender doling out “Grey Goose Graysons” is a solid thirty yards to my right—and that’s not even close to Marnie’s trajectory.
Marnie comes to a stop in front of me, and my heart jolts. My skin breaks out in goosebumps. Jesus. What is it about this goddamned woman?
“Hello, Max.”
“Hello, Marnie.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Did you come over here to chew me out for something I did over there? Perhaps because I had the audacity to sit down next to you?” Why, why, why does this woman have this crazy effect on me? I feel like a middle schooler around her. Butterflies exploding in my belly. Heat zapping across my skin. All this time, every time I jacked off to memories of my night with Marnie, I convinced myself I’d slowly turned her into a fictionalized character. One with far more sex appeal than the real thing. But now that she’s standing before me, gazing at me with those big blue eyes of hers, I’m realizing my fantasies about her didn’t do her justice. Not even close.
Marnie shifts her weight. “Would you like to hear what I came over here to say to you or would you like to keep putting words into my mouth?”
“Go ahead and speak.”
“Gee, thanks.” Her blue eyes narrow. “Actually, never mind. Now that I’m here, I’m realizing it’s not worth it.”
When she turns to leave, anger floods me. The woman unceremoniously ditched me after an amazing night over a year ago, after agreeing to breakfast and dinner with me, and then she ignored me at that table with her friends, and now she’s the one acting like I’ve somehow done something offensive?
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout to her backside. “You fucked me like a goddamned sex addict for an entire night a year and a half ago and—”
Marnie whirls around, her eyes wide, and marches back to me. “Quiet,” she hisses. “Selena’s son is right over there in the pool!”
I take a deep breath. “What did I do? Explain it to me, so I can finally stop wondering and move on with my goddamned life.”
Marnie rubs her forehead. “You didn’t do anything, Max. It was a classic case of it’s not you, it’s me.”
I scoff. “That’s the thing I say when I’m not feeling it with someone. Which would be fine, of course, except that there’s no way you weren’t feeling it. A woman doesn’t have that many orgasms with a guy when she’s not feeling it with him. And she doesn’t attack him the next morning like she’s a junkie and his cock is crack cocaine!”
“Quiet!” she hisses, looking around frantically. “What the fuck, Max? Keep it down.” She smiles at a couple strolling toward us on their way to the bar. As they pass, they say a polite hello to Marnie, and she engages them in small talk about the amazing sunshine, the lovely party, our fabulous hostess, Selena. When the couple finally continues on their merry way, Marnie glares at me and grits out, “Come with me. We can’t talk out here. You’re a goddamned loose cannon.”
Without waiting for my reply, Marnie turns on her heel in a huff and marches toward the house, so I follow her with long strides—one for every two of Marnie’s. In through a back door we go. Then down a hallway and up a grand staircase. Down another long hallway. And, finally, into a room that turns out to be an impressive home gym.
After slamming the door behind me, Marnie whirls around, her blue eyes blazing, and shouts, “Have you never been turned down before? Is that it? Am I the first woman who didn’t fall madly in love with you after her first orgasm?”
“You’re deflecting,” I say, matching her gritted teeth. “You’re trying to turn this around on me and make me the bad guy somehow, when you’re the lunatic sadist with a fucking screw loose.”
“A lunatic sadist with a screw loose?” she booms.
“Abso-fucking-lutely. One minute, you were agreeing to dinner and looking up the breakfast place I’d suggested, and the next you were hell-bent on sprinting out my front door, half dressed, without even doing me the courtesy of saying goodbye. If you weren’t feeling it, fine. Trust me, I’ve been there more times than I can count. But I don’t believe that’s the case, or else you wouldn’t have blown me the next morning before climbing aboard for another round. Obviously, you get off on mind-fucking a guy after fucking him. Which makes you a goddamned sadist, sweetheart. With a fucking screw loose.”