Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
His mouth stalls. “I don’t know what that is.”
“A marsupial mouse. The male will mate as much as possible, but all that sex kills his immune system, and he usually dies.”
He pulls himself back up, peering into my eyes. “Where did you learn something like that?”
“Came across it while I was searching for Scarlet’s bug sex calendar. There was also one for mammals. It was enlightening.”
“Are you saying I might die after this weekend?”
I don’t think he’s kidding about staying. My adrenaline rushes. “You should be fine. You’re not a brown antechinus. Just don’t set any alarms. Those make her”—I point at the clipping on the fridge—“irrationally angry.”
He smirks. “Where is this bug calendar?”
My hands smooth over Garrett’s chest, admiring the hard curves. “I set fire to it. Long story. Not important.”
“You’re right. You know what is?” He lifts me off the counter, his hands gripping my hips, holding my body flush to him as he heads toward my bedroom. “This favorite number of yours.”
“You should think about wearing fewer clothes.”
Garrett smirks as he checks his shirt collar in my full-length mirror. He arrived on Friday night, and it’s Monday morning now, and aside from the five hours on Saturday when I was at Murphy’s and he was in the sales center next door doing whatever it is project developers do, we haven’t been apart.
For much of that time, we really haven’t been apart. Scarlet left the house on Saturday morning when Shane got home and hasn’t been back until this morning, leaving us to our depraved activities. I’ve never been so engrossed with another human body in my life. There isn’t an inch of him that my tongue hasn’t touched. My thighs ache from being stretched for so long.
I miss him, and he hasn’t even left yet.
Garrett collects his duffel bag off the floor.
“You’re like a nomad.”
“I have a home base. It’s just not in this state.” Garrett leans down to plant a long, sensual kiss on my mouth. “I have a ton of meetings and work to get done this week. It’s best if I stay in Philly.”
A pang of disappointment stirs in my chest. “That’s fine. I’m sick of you, anyway.”
“Same.” He leans in again, this time teasing my lips with the tip of his tongue.
I take the bait, stretching for more contact.
He pulls away with a knowing smile, stalling just out of reach unless I pull myself up. “What’s your plan for next Saturday?”
Next Saturday … I groan at the reminder. The bachelorette. “I don’t want to go.” I’ve never not wanted to go to a bachelorette. And Scarlet can’t make it because of some charity event the firehouse is running that she’s helping with, which means I’m facing forced pleasantries with Isabelle all on my own. It’s not my strength. In fact, it might be my number one weakness—pretending I’m someone I’m not. I’m dreading this.
“Okay.” Garrett shrugs as if it’s no big deal.
I groan a second time, throwing my arm across my forehead. “But I have to go.”
He smiles. “If you need a place to crash for the night, I’ll send you my address.”
“To your trust fund palace?” What does that side of Garrett’s world look like? I only got a glimpse at the engagement party. Aside from that, all I really know about Garrett is that he works nonstop and has the sexual stamina of a bull.
“More like a loft, but yes.”
I frown. “Will you be there?”
His eyes narrow. “Do you want me to be there?”
I want you to be everywhere. Another Saturday night with Garrett? That invitation sends a thrill through me. “Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for the weekend.” He steals one more kiss before he’s out the door, offering a goodbye to Scarlet on the way past.
I throw on a T-shirt and boxer shorts and venture out on wobbly legs, sneaking a glimpse of my wild mane in the mirror. “Oh, I have sex hair. Nice.”
“You’re alive. I wasn’t sure.” Scarlet smirks around a sip of coffee.
“He asked me to stay with him next Saturday in New York.” Or at least, casually offered it. “You know, because of the bachelorette.”
“That’s good, right? Isn’t Joe and Sara’s new house in the middle of renovations?”
“Yeah. And Joe’s condo will be crowded.” But is this what we’re doing now? Spending weekends together?
She frowns. “Why am I sensing an issue here?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m confused. How did I go from liking a guy, to hating him and plotting his professional demise, to letting him bang my brains out? How did this happen?” Did I ever hate him, though? Or was I just hurt and allowing my spiteful side to take over?
She shrugs. “You’re Justine. Things like this happen to you.”
“True. But what even are we?” There’s this ongoing little game of ours tied to the Revive Project. We’re clearly best fuck friends. But spending an entire weekend here … the way he kissed me goodbye … it’s beginning to feel like more.