Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Right? I’ll have to come up with a different name—maybe the Womansplainer? You know like mansplaining, but womansplaining.” Not liking that either, I wave my hands through the air, wiping that option away. “But Chance wants to hire me to do classes at his club.”
Luna shakes her head, rattling her thoughts loose. “Chance . . . wants you . . . in his boys-only club . . . to talk about sex?” she says in broken bits as she puts it together.
“Well, gender, relationships . . . and yeah, lots of sex,” I admit as she stares at me disbelievingly. “That’s why I wanted to do a sprint. I need to work on the outline for my first class.”
“I’m stuck on him not only letting you, but wanting you, in his dicks-required club. To talk to the guys, of course, because we’ve already established that he wants you here, there, and everywhere.” She smiles evilly, and for a moment I can see her ballsy alter-ego in her expression. “This is a major improvement for him, Samantha. I don’t know if you understand how much of an uptight, good soldier he usually is. He’s got rules for his rules. I’m surprised he didn’t have you sign a retroactive NDA once you knew who he was.”
She thinks she’s right, I can see it in her eyes. But she doesn’t know Chance the way I do. “Except he’s not like that. At least, not with me.”
She nods, but it feels a bit patronizing. “Of course, sure. Uh, what are you going to do for your first session?” she asks, trying to step it back because I sound a bit annoyed at her assessment of Chance. Not that I have any reason to be, but I’m offended on his behalf.
“I’m going in bold and obscene. I think they’ll respond to a strong, informative, be better in bed in one hour deal. And if I’m promising orgasms, who’s gonna tell me to shut up and get out?”
Luna laughs so hard she falls over into the coffee table and uses it to stay semi-upright. “Uh, probably Chance and Evan, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. To be clear, you mean conversational orgasms, not actual ones, right?” When I twist my lips sarcastically, she switches gears. “Does Chance know your topic du jour is going to be ‘Be a Great Fucker, Not a Fuck Up’ yet?”
I blink at her brilliance. Holding up one finger, I scribble that down on my tablet screen as a possible title. Once I’ve got that and a few other ideas noted, I shrug. “He knows my specialties and what I’m bringing to the table. He can be okay with it, or I can bounce.”
I’m not going to hold back from giving the guys what they need, even if it’s a kick in the ass. Literally. And Chance didn’t give me any restrictions or guidelines, just said to help them be good men. That’s his mission in five words, basically, and I can support that. As long as I can tell them how to lick a clit as part of that education.
Luna seems unsure, and I eat a couple of handfuls of popcorn as I wait for her to get her thoughts together. “Be careful, Samantha. That’s all. Chance puts on a good front—confident, strong, proud. But I’ve seen him with Carter and the rest of the brothers. It’s not always pretty. He was the first one to walk away from Charles, which took some big brass ones, but he paid a price. For a while, I think he was looked at as a traitor to the family.”
That is new information to me.
I’ve heard about Luna’s in-laws, Charles and Miranda, and all of Carter’s siblings, including Chance. But they’re all scattered around town, doing their own things. Cameron is the only one following in Daddy Harrington’s footsteps at the family business now. Carter’s doing private estate management for the same woman Luna manages the art collection for. Cole seems to dip in and out randomly, and the going theories are that he’s a spy, an escort, or both. But that’s a joke, not serious suspicion. Kyle is the black sheep of the family, doing whatever he wants, which seems to be flipping his middle finger at anything his father holds dear. And Kayla is her mother’s right-hand woman.
“Good soldier family man is the traitor?” I echo, confused as hell because nothing about Chance is worthy of that title.
“Not now,” Luna rushes to clarify, “but in the early days, when he was struggling over his idealistic dream of making the world a better place? Yeah, that’s not really Charles’s love language. And the club, however unusual it might be to us, is Chance’s baby. Just . . . don’t mess it up for him, ’kay?”