Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Bonne Nuit, Markos,” she says and gets out of the car and slams the door. I watch her walk into her building and then into the elevator, disappearing from my sight.
“Where to now?” the driver asks me.
“Back to where you got me,” I say, sitting back in the seat. When I walk back into my house, her smell lingers, and I wonder how I’m going to get her back. Regardless of what she says, I know one thing. She will be back.
Chapter Nine
Vivienne
I walk into my lobby, pretending not to have a care in the world. I smile at the nighttime security and press the button for the elevator on shaky legs. “It’s just a myth,” I keep saying over and over again. When I step into the elevator and turn to look out, I see him sitting in the cab with his eyes on me. It’s dark, but I would know his eyes anywhere. The door closes, and when it finally does, I lean back and put my hand up on the rail. “What the fuck?”
I unlock my door and walk in, not turning on the lights. I don’t do anything but go sit down on the couch and gaze outside. I think back on the day, and what I thought would happen. I thought I would show up at his place, we’d fuck, and it would be done. The itch would be gone and the whole chase over. What I wasn’t expecting was to be so properly fucked that I wanted to go back for more. Today, tonight, tomorrow—I wanted it. I rub my hands over my face, and it’s the wrong thing because his smell is all around me. I need another shower to wash him off me. I get up and step into the shower, the hot water washing away all his touches. “Are you going to call me?” I still hear his voice.
I dab myself with the white plush towel and replay the dinner over in my head. I don’t ever date, so I wasn’t prepared for his questions about me or what I did for a living. What shocked me even more was that I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know what he liked to eat and what his favorite color was. I was actually interested in knowing everything about him, and it freaked me out so much I had to stand and get away from him. My heart speeds up when I think about him taking me in the hallway, and the condom in his pocket as if he’d planned it all along.
Sliding into bed, I grab the cream on my night table and rub it over my hands. As I turn on the television, my body feels like it went through fifteen rounds of boxing. My arms hurt, and I didn’t even use them. The second my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a light, and he’s there, waiting for me in my dreams. His smile, his touch, everything is there, and when my phone rings, I feel like I’m in that movie Groundhog Day.
“This better be someone dead,” I say, not even looking at the name on the phone.
“It’s almost eleven,” Karrie says, chuckling, and I hear horns in the background. “Why are you still sleeping?”
“I’m tired,” I tell her and roll over. My body aches, but it’s nothing like the soreness between my legs. “I can be tired.”
“You can be, but only if you went out last night,” she says, and I now hear sirens in the background.
“Jesus, where are you?” I ask her, peeking one eye open.
“I’m in the city. I had an OB/GYN appointment.” She laughs. “I’m not pregnant.”
“You know you can swallow, right?” I laugh and turn back to my side. “They like it better sometimes.”
“Do they? I’ll remember that. Now, do I come over, or do you want to meet me for lunch?”
“Is this a trick question?” I ask her as I try to stretch my muscles, pulling from everywhere. “Come here. I don’t want to get dressed. Oh, and bring breakfast.”
“It’s eleven,” she says again. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“Karrie, I’ve been up for four minutes. Get coffee and some croissants, pretty please, mon amie préféré.” My favorite friend.
“Already on it,” she says, and then I hear a car door close. “Be there in ten.”
“D’accord,” I say. I toss my phone to the side and linger on the bed for a couple of minutes before getting up and walking to the bathroom. I’m washing my face when I hear heels clicking across the floor, coming closer and closer.
“Did you just get up?” she asks me, and I look at her while I wash my face and apply my cream. “And are those fingertip bruises?” she asks, coming closer. I look down at myself. I haven’t gotten dressed yet, so I’m naked.