Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
But I'm pretty sure she has a thing for the maintenance man.
She slides the shot glass toward me and turns her attention to Paige.
"Not yet we're not." Mina waggles her brows suggestively, making everyone laugh. "All I said was I want the inside scoop on how the four of you"—she points to me, Emmy, Clover, and Zoey—"write dirty hot sex when you still have your V-Cards."
"I've wondered that as well," Paige says. "I mean, I've never been to medieval England, but I have been to England and seen medieval artifacts at museums, so that's kinda close."
I flap a hand in the air, trying to end this conversation quickly. I don't want to talk about sex things when I'm being haunted every night by an annoyingly hot cowboy. Seriously. Why does he have to be all sexy and grumpy? The jerk. "I have a rose and Javier. And porn."
"Not the rose," Paige groans, making Emmy laugh hysterically.
"The rose?" Clover looks between the three of us in question.
"We almost had to stage an intervention over the rose," Emmy says.
"Seriously, she went missing for days. I was ready to call the police," Paige says. Then she laughs. "When we finally got her back online and she told us where she'd been, well, let's just say, I ordered a rose for myself that afternoon."
"It was for research purposes," I sniff. It's the truth. I was researching how many orgasms you can have before you can't take anymore. Turns out…not very many with that thing. It's like magic.
"Who is Javier?" Zoey asks.
"Oh, uh, he's my battery-operated boyfriend." I blush, darting a quick glance around to make sure no one can hear me. "I thought he needed a name."
"Do you scream it?" Clover asks, making everyone laugh.
"I named mine Paul," Paige says.
"Mine is just Oh God, Oh God," Mina says.
We all crack up. God, I love our annual retreats. They're good for the soul.
A bubbly waitress approaches the table to take our orders. I quickly look over a menu and order a steak and asparagus and a pitcher of Sangria. Zoey orders a second pitcher. We're going to be wasted before the end of the night.
"Take your shot," Emmy demands, pointing at the glass once the waitress heads to the kitchen to put our order in.
I groan and then reluctantly pick it up. Everyone watches attentively until I quickly toss it back. The alcohol burns its way down my throat.
"Blech, I hate vodka," I say, shuddering. I steal Paige's glass of water and take a big gulp, trying to wash the taste of the vodka out of my mouth.
"I have a proposition," Mina says, a wicked glint in her eye that spells trouble. She jumps up out of her seat and rubs her hands together with glee. Everyone's attention is focused on her. She narrows her eyes, places both hands firmly on her hips, and all I can think is how much she resembles a beautiful little troublemaker right now. I don't like it. She always talks me into doing crazy things when we're drinking!
"I dare the four of you to lose your V-Cards this week."
An image of Cord pops into my mind, sweat running in rivulets down his sun-darkened skin, his severe expression blazing with heat, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he writhes in bliss.
I choke on Paige's water, my face turning red.
"Oh my gosh, yes, that's brilliant, Mina! This is a perfect thing for this retreat. Y'all lose your V-cards and then you can report back to us. I'm sure we'll be at the bar," Paige says with another laugh.
Emmy chokes back a cough and smacks her chest with her palm a few times. She squirms in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Poor thing looks rattled. Knowing her, she probably wishes she hadn't said anything at all about being a virgin. She's vivacious and bubbly, but she can be guarded and intensely private too.
"Huh?" she says, sitting up a little straighter. Her hair falls across her eyes, but when she blows it away, it comes out sounding like she blew a raspberry.
"Yes!" Mina says, clapping her hands together with delight. "That, my friends, is the sound of relief you'll feel when you get rid of your cherries."
"No, thank you," I say, shaking my head. There's no way I'm giving it up to some random man on a dare. When I give it up, it'll be because the man in question means something. Maybe I'm naive or silly, but I don't want the fleeting kind of love my mom jumps into and out of every week. I want the forever kind of love I write about. I know it exists. One day, I'll be brave enough to chase it.
"I agree," Clover says, tipping back the shot glass she's been holding in her hand. "The last thing I want is some one-night stand to remember the day I lost my virginity."