Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Chase stands, letting me scoot out, before either guy can say a word.
I race to the ladies’ room, wishing I hadn’t said I want to be fucked good and hard and scream my head off to two guys I don’t even know at all.
Two guys I want.
7
ORGASM MATCHMAKERS
Chase
We have a problem.
We actually have two problems—the pact and the orgasm drought our new friend is suffering from.
But first things first.
The pact to never let a woman come between us again. The second Trina is out of earshot, I jerk my gaze to Ryker. “This is awful,” I say, frowning.
“No shit.”
“Like, the worst.” I drag a hand through my hair. I’m having PTSD about our ex Abby all over again. I’ve had flashbacks ever since I realized Ryker was hot for Trina, which happened oh, say, the second we met her. Admittedly, it’s been hard to keep the pact front and center every single second when she is so damn interesting, fun, and sexy.
But I’ve tried to rein in my inner flirt. Keep the charmer in me locked up in a cage. Still, it’s time to deal with the problem head-on. “This is like those logic problems from when we were kids,” I say. “A train races through the forest and no one is around. How fast is it going when there are no survivors and they come across a doctor in the emergency room?”
Ryker blows out a long breath. “That is not how that logic problem goes. That’s like ten logic problems mangled into one.”
Now he gets it. “Yes. My point exactly. That’s the situation we’re facing. And we need to roll up our sleeves and solve it,” I say. We’ve got to just lay it all on the table. My attraction to her, his attraction to her, then how the hell we can help a woman in need when neither one of us can clearly be the one to volunteer as her tribute.
This is a riddle of the highest order.
“Are you suggesting we flip a coin?”
I scoff. “She’s not the passenger seat in a car. You don’t call shotgun on a woman.”
“Good. Because I thought you were saying that,” he says, relaxing his shoulders a bit.
Then it hits me. “Wait. I thought we were both talking about the same thing. I was talking about the pact, and how awful it is that we can’t help.”
Ryker hesitates, then says, “I was talking about how awful it is that she’s never had a good orgasm. I take the pact as a given.”
“Me too.”
A year ago, Ryker met a gal named Selena at a coffee shop during the off-season. He was doing a crossword puzzle, he told me later, and she came right over to him and asked if he needed help. He tossed out a hard clue as a challenge. Lo and behold, she got it. He asked her out immediately—a rarity for him—and she said yes. He didn’t tell a soul at first, including me. But I was with my mom and little brothers on a vacation in Europe, so no big deal. While we were tromping through Prague and Paris, my soft-hearted friend fell fast and hard and soon I heard about it over text. When I returned a few weeks before training camp, I met a fabulous gal named Abby in the park where I was hosting a 5K race for charity. She chatted me up and asked me to go for a run the next day.
Hell yeah.
We had a blast working out together in the mornings, and then we had a blast working out in the bedroom.
One night, I took her out to dinner at a sidewalk café in Hayes Valley. I snapped a pic of us, posted it on social, then took her home with me for the night. Like I’d been doing while I was in town.
The next morning Ryker didn’t show up for our gym sesh.
When I texted him asking what was up, he said you fucking know.
No, I did not.
But he would not even talk to me for days, till he finally exploded with “You’re fucking Selena.”
“What? No, her name is Abby,” I said.
“Bullshit, that’s Selena. I saw the pic on your feed, and you knew I was in love with her. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
What was wrong with her was the question.
Turned out, she’d given us both fake names, along with a couple other guys, and was dating four dudes all at once.
When I confronted her, she laughed and said, “Men have been doing this for centuries. How does it feel?”
Like shit.
She smiled, waved, and told the story on a podcast, calling her social experiment The Dating Experiment.
That was real fun. Only saving grace is she didn’t name names so it never got out that we were part of the duped.