Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
My phone was out of my pocket again, this time texting her.
Dean
What room will you be staying in?
Rosie
One where you’re not welcome. We need to keep it platonic.
That would be a definite no. That was like settling for looking at a mouthwatering cheesecake without ever eating it. I was going to eat it again and again and a-motherfucking-gain. Shit, I was going on a binge.
Dean
Don’t be cute. We’ve already established that we’re happening. Now you’re just punishing me for dating your sister. Tell me I’m wrong.
She didn’t answer. Of course, she didn’t. She was hot for me. More than that. She was hot for all of me—not just my body—and the feeling was mutual. What we shared yesterday? It wasn’t something that happened with a Kennedy or a Natasha. Fuck, it didn’t even happen with Emilia. Rosie and I were connected by an invisible fuse. Even when I was dating her sister. Even when she had a boyfriend and lived downstairs and I was ten floors up boning my way into some kind of a record. I couldn’t wait for the second we exploded, because when we did…fireworks. The sparks were already there. She could bullshit me all she wanted, but she felt it, too.
Dean
Fucking going to devour you, Baby LB.
Rosie
DEAN. Change of subject. Fun fact about astronomy?
Dean
The Milky Way is whirling rapidly at approximately 100 million km per hour, and you’re about to get my milk splashed in your cunt. Music?
Rosie
Your heartbeat mimics the beats of the music you’re listening to. Dean Cole is not that wrong about his theory regarding my sister. He would have to work hard for a repeat.
I closed our text conversation and opened a new one with Sydney, who I knew from high school, asking her to give me all the deets. When they were going to land and settle into rooms, what their schedule was like. I told her not to share it with anyone, because we were planning a surprise for Millie.
When really, I was planning a surprise for Rosie.
I was going to eat my cake, and keep it. Impossible? Just watch.
God bless Sydney Whatshername.
Even though I was oblivious to her existence back when we were in high school (the only reason I had her number was because Millie opened a special text group for people who attended the rehearsal dinner), in Vegas she quickly became one of my favorite people. For one thing, Sydney told me where the girls would be that night. Since Vicious didn’t want any strippers at his party (he always hated people, and especially people who tried to touch him. Besides, he was a bastard, but a loyal one), we were all planning to go to a fancy restaurant and hit the casino until morning.
I figured we could crash the club they were going to after that Britney Spears show. Weren’t the dancers humping one another the whole time? Thank you, Ms. Spears, for prepping my girl’s libido for our late-night escapade.
It didn’t surprise me that Rosie brought her fucking A-game to the table and burnt it down with ace after ace. While the men were drinking and smoking in the presidential suite, talking about Trent with shitty porn playing in the background like we were fucking sixteen, Rosie had somehow managed to take the girls on a special cupcake adventure, a tour of a famous tattoo shop, a Jacuzzi party, and a show.
I knew all that info because Sydney Motherfucking LastnameIcantremember gave me hourly updates, assuming Emilia, the bride, was in for a pleasant surprise. And she was. I was going to bring her groom along with me. But my intentions were purely selfish—I was after her younger sister.
“You should probably let Vic know before he loses his shit,” Jaime said to me when I got out of the shower, ironing the collar of his crisp shirt in front of the spotless, floor-to-ceiling mirror. I chuckled, dropping the towel and stepping into my boxers. Jaime had seen my dick so many times, he could probably recognize it in a police lineup with a hundred more suspects. Our football days meant we were all comfortable with each other. Too comfortable, maybe.
“Let him know what?” I played dumb. Vicious already knew, but I liked fucking with my friends as much as the next HotHole. “Are you talking about the Erickson-Estavez deal?” We were working with two giant engineering companies on the verge of merging together, and Vicious stayed out of the loop, with his upcoming wedding and all. Out of the four of us, Jaime and I were probably the hardest workers. Jaime, because he was just a responsible little shit who had to get everything right and perfect. Me, because I had no kids or other responsibilities, so drowning in numbers and initiating business calls with Asia and Australia in the middle of the night were sacrifices I was happy to make.