Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I’m not the kind of girl to do that stuff. I’m the kind of girl who goes to bed at ten p.m. on the dot, and who always turns in her assignments on time. I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t usually drink alcohol, and whose experience with guys - until last night, that is - was limited to soap operas and the occasional uncomfortable date. I’m not someone who goes to raucous parties, who hooks up with strangers, and who… who...
Except you are now, a wicked voice pipes up from deep in my mind. Or maybe you always were, and this is just the proof. No. No way. That’s ridiculous. Is it, though? that voice asks, teasing but sounding aggravatingly rational. Admit it, Frankie. You were turned on by what was happening at that party, and you got in on the action yourself. With a guy who might as well be a male model.
I blush as I think about what happened after we went upstairs. The way his hands glided expertly over my body, the way he fingered me just so, unleashing sensations I didn’t even know existed, the way he kissed me down there… and the way he claimed me. There’s no way around it, because that’s what happened. It was so wrong, but it felt so good. I sit up in bed, quickly realizing that I’m not going to get more sleep any time soon. My cell phone is in my hand before I even have time to think about it, and I quickly dial Jenny’s number, hoping against hope that she’ll be available to let me unload on her. Come on, Jenny, pick up…
The phone rings a few times, and I’m starting to wonder if she’s even going to answer when I hear her voice on the other end, sounding groggy.
“Frankie? Girl, is that you?”
“Jenny,” I say. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“Well, here I am. Don’t leave me in suspense,” Frankie says, waking up a little with a yawn. “What’s going on? Actually, strike that - what happened last night? You left before I did. I was a little worried because I was going to give you a ride home.”
“Yeah,” I say, “about that.” I clear my throat, rubbing my forehead, trying to figure out how to break it to her.
“Frankie?” the concern in her voice is turning into curiosity. “Did you get up to something at that party?”
“You first,” I tell her, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“Remember that blond guy with the enormous biceps?” giggles Jenny. “He was going down on that girl in the kitchen… never mind. I did him and he was huge. We were there until after midnight, enjoying one another. Your turn.” Her voice is teasing. “Don’t tell me Frankie Fordham did the horizontal tango with someone?”
“Oh, god, please don’t call it that,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But yes. In so many words, yes. Okay?”
“Oh my god!” Jenny exclaims, her voice reaching an inhuman pitch. “Holy shit! Really? I mean, I was kind of joking when I asked, but… Oh my god, Frankie! Who was it? What did you do? Tell me everything!”
“There’s not much to tell,” I reply evasively. “There was this guy in the kitchen. I spilled my champagne on him.” I cringe a little at the memory, feeling just as awkward about it the morning after as I did in the moment. “Anyway, we, uh… We started talking, and…” I go quiet, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks herself.
No such luck.
“And what?” Jenny demands, sounding impatient. “Don’t leave me hanging, girl! Out with it!”
“Fine, fine,” I say, clearing my throat. “We got to talking and then he… Well, he kissed me.”
“And?”
“Come on, Jenny-”
“Hey, I told you about my first time,” she protests. “I’m not going to let you dodge the question. What did you do?”
“He took me upstairs,” I reply. “We hooked up.” The words sound strange coming out of my mouth. Did I ever think I would ever make love to a man that gorgeous, let alone in a context like that? No. Obviously not.
“Holy shit,” Jenny says, her voice serious enough to make me laugh in spite of my embarrassment. “Well? How was it?”
“It was…” How was it, now that I think about it? I don’t have anything to compare it to, but then again, my instincts tell me that it doesn’t get better than what I experienced. “Good,” I finish at last. “It was really good.”
“Damn,” Jenny says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Who would have thought? Frankie Fordham is all grown up. So are you going to see him again? What’s his name?”
For a second I fumble, trying to remember what he told me.
“Hunter Martin,” I reply after a moment’s thought. “And I have no idea if I’m going to see him again.”