The Last Person

Early the next morning, I kiss his cheek and whisper, “goodbye” before slinking out the door and to my loft for a much needed shower and food. I’m starving!

Two hours later, after I’ve showered and made coffee and a huge breakfast, Freya shuffles her bare feet to the kitchen.

“Good morning.” I smile from the barstool as I glance up from my book, having reread the chapters for tonight’s discussion.

“Oh lord,” she rolls her eyes and pours a cup of coffee. “I know that look. You had sex. Good sex. Afterglow sex.”

I giggle. “May—be. Or maybe I’m just excited about book club tonight.”

Freya sets her coffee on the island and twists her wild hair into a bun while pinning me with an untrusting scowl. “I don’t believe you. I know you love books, but they don’t leave you looking like you just rode the world’s biggest dick for the full eight seconds.”

My face cracks under my out-of-control grin. “Can you keep a secret? And I mean legit keep a secret, not like your usual promise to keep a secret that ends in you blabbing it to everyone after two glasses of wine. I’m talking the locked vault. Can you do that?”

“You’re pregnant? Who’s the baby daddy? I bet it’s Carson. I can totally see him wanting to add a baby to the YouTube mix. The only thing that might get more views than Gilbert, the three-legged hero dog, is Gilbert the three-legged hero dog with a baby. God … people love dogs and babies. I need a fucking dog and baby so I can afford to bring my fiancé home to me.”

“It’s not Carson’s baby.” I cover my mouth and shake my head. “No! I mean … dammit! You have me so messed up with your crazy dog and baby scenario. I’m not pregnant. No baby. No baby daddy. I had sex again with Eric, but not just any sex. We had book sex. Jasmine and Andrew sex. He read more of the book. And he liked it.” I fold my hands at my chest to keep my limbs from flailing with excitement.

“What does that mean?” She wrinkles her nose.

“He pulled me into his apartment last night and he did to me what Andrew did to Jasmine.”

“Oh … that’s … weird.”

I roll my eyes. “Not weird. Mind-blowing. The best sex I’ve ever had—times a million. It’s not just the sex; it’s the book!”

She sips her coffee, resting one hand on the island. “You do realize you can have mind-blowing sex with a guy and not be book soulmates. Right? Please tell me you get that.”

“Of course I know that.”

I just don’t really like to think about it.

“He’s coming to book club tonight. I’m not going to be able to keep from blushing the whole time.” My cheeks flush just saying the words … thinking about the group discussing the erotic scene while Eric stares at me, knowing what we did last night.

Freya pops her lips several times, eyes wide. “Okay. Well, it should be interesting.”

Chapter Eight

Book Club Night Two

* * *

I wear a yellow lace cutout sundress and my yellow wedges to book club. Freya serves wine as everyone mills around a few minutes before seven. My heart won’t calm down. My breaths won’t even out. My eye’s won’t stop staring at the door.

Where is he?

Biting the inside of my cheek, I decide it’s best to just get started. He’ll completely derail me once he comes through that door.

“Let’s get started.”

Freya hands me a generous glass of wine after I sit next to her.

“Just in time.”

I glance up at Eric taking a seat across from me. Here it comes … the heat, the memories, the full-on blush. “Hi.” Yeah, I’m really breathy.

Once again, his hair is wet. I try not to focus on my intimate knowledge of him. Little things like knowing what he looks like completely naked and dripping wet in the shower.

The way his lips part before his tongue drags across his lower lip as I wrap my lips around his—

“They’re waiting.” Freya elbows me.

Shit.

When did everyone quiet down? And how long have they been staring at me drooling over Eric and remembering the blow job I gave him last night—in the shower.

“Um …” I clear my throat and tear my gaze from Mr. Sex. “Let’s start with one word that describes your feelings about chapters nine through sixteen. I’ll go first. Riveting.” I risk a glance at Eric, but he’s focused on his plate of snacks.

The one-word descriptions follow mine: provocative, stimulating, sensual, arousing, stirring, alluring …

My heart swells as so many accurate and positive words fall from their mouths. When it’s Eric’s turn, I hold my breath. I want him to be honest, but I fear his honesty could expose us to everyone. Fire fills my cheeks the second I hear his voice. With one sexual description, I could melt into a puddle.