I sleep naked, by the way. You should try it. If you haven’t slept naked, you haven’t lived. But that’s beside the point.
Emma ChaseAnyway. Give me your ten.”
“I’ve had sex with more than ten women in one week.”
Cancun. Spring Break 2004. Mexico is awesome.
“Uck. Is that supposed to impress me?
At the same moment, Kate and I drop our beverages and make a mad dash for the door. In the lobby, she pushes the elevator button furiously while I head for the stairs. Genius that I am, I figure I can take them three at a time. I’m almost six-feet—long legs. The only problem with this, of course, is that my office is on the fortieth floor.
Idiot.
How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything but.
Emma ChaseThe point is, when you ask, “What do you want for dinner?” we’re thinking about screwing you on the kitchen counter. When you’re telling us about the sappy film you watched with your girlfriends last week, we’re thinking about the porno we saw on cable last night. When you show us the designer shoes you bought on sale, we’re thinking how nice they would look on our shoulders.
I just thought you’d want to know. Don’t shoot the messenger
As I finally reach our floor, panting and sweating, I see Kate leisurely leaning against her office door, coat off, a glass of water in hand. She offers it to me, along with that breathtaking smile of hers.
Emma ChaseSex is a release. Purely physical. That’s all. At least to men it is.
Okay, okay—calm down—don’t start throwing shoes at me or something.
At least to this man it is. Better?
Hell, a guy could love a woman and still fuck ten others. It’s just the way it is.
Emma ChaseAs she starts to speak, my mind is suddenly filled with every hot-teacher fantasy I’ve ever had. They’re playing out in my mind right next to the ones about the seemingly sexually repressed librarian who’s really a leather-wearing, handcuff-bearing nymphomaniac.
Emma ChaseI have come to the unequivocal decision that Kate Brooks’s ass is one that I, sadly, am never going to tap. And I’m okay with that. Really.
And I almost believe myself.
Right up until she shows up at my door.
Christ.
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