A Girl Like You vinnie Kinsella (best motivational books to read .txt) 📖

“Nothing.” I shrugged. “Same old.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at me. I prayed I wasn’t blushing.

“You hiding something? Or maybe someone?”

I felt my entire nasal system burn as I ate too much wasabi. Choking, I emptied my water glass. My secret life with Daniel had to stay just that. If Eddie found out—or, God forbid, the kids—it would horrify them, make them think I had lost my shit altogether. It was the kind of secret best kept that way. That was part of my fixation with Daniel. Only he and I knew.

I excused myself from the table and went to the ladies’ room. A text came in from Daniel, this time a selfie of him blowing me a kiss. In return, I opened my knees and sent a quick shot of my navy-blue panties.

“Well, now I’m hard at my desk,” he texted back

I smiled. The more photos I sent Daniel, the freer I felt. I felt a connection with my own body and a sense of pride that someone wanted to see every feminine part, that it turned him on just to look. That made me feel gloriously sexy in a way I’d never felt before. Something to be admired, maybe drooled over.

“Gotta go,” I texted.

“Talk later, Jessica.”

Eddie was still shaking his head when I got back to the table. “There’s something going on, and you may as well tell me now, because I’ll find out eventually,” he said, finishing his tea.

I just smiled and shook my head.

76

Whole days went by when I didn’t hear from Daniel, and I tried not to read into it. Just when I’d begin to agonize, a message would come through from him.

“What else are you interested in? Tell me something you’ve never done,” Daniel texted one night as I sprawled on my bed with Pen.

The list of what I hadn’t done was too long to even begin. It would be easier to list the short number of things I had done, although that tally had grown considerably since meeting Daniel.

“I don’t know,” I texted. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for my list.”

My heart leapt. He knew how to capture my full attention.

“Try me.”

“Hold on,” Daniel texted. “I have a call from my son coming in.”

I didn’t hear back from Daniel that night or the next day, and I tried to keep busy and not panic. The second night, a text came through as I was at my dining room table, trying to come up with an enticing blog topic for a company that made backpacks from recycled plastic water bottles.

“Threesome?”

I shut down my computer. No one was home, but when I got this text from Daniel, I shielded my cell and looked around to make sure no one was reading over my shoulder.

“Well hello, Daniel. Nice hearing from you. How’ve you been?”

“Good, you?”

“Also good.”

“So, threesome?”

“What about it?” I texted.

“Ever had one? Ever wanted one?”

I held my thumbs over the letters on my cell, but found myself unable to form a response.

“Jess?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“When in doubt, default to the truth.”

Truth be told, I had thought about being with another woman and a man, but my fantasies were very selfish: in them, the woman, unusually beautiful, was playing with my nipples while the man, spectacularly built, was stroking himself, watching us. If anyone got into oral, it was the woman licking me, not the other way around.

And there was always alcohol involved.

“Yes. I have thought about it.”

“You and two men?”

God no. It was enough to work out the logistics of having sex with one man, much less adding another penis to the equation.

“No. Another woman and a man.” Then I began to picture being with Daniel and a second woman, and I knew I would want to slap her if she tried to kiss him or touch him anywhere. Share Daniel? No thanks.

“Would you ever do it? Would you want another woman to join us?”

“No,” I texted back immediately. “It’s not something I’d like.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t want to share a man with another woman.”

“Ah,” Daniel texted. “Are you a jealous girl?”

I hesitated, then typed, “I guess so.”

“Hmmm. What if you made the rules about what would be done? How the man could touch the woman?”

“Or not at all?”

“Or not at all,” Daniel said. “That would be up to you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to make the rules.”

“Why not?”

“Because you set the rules,” I said.

“Good girl.”

“You know, I kissed my roommate in college.” I wanted to sound like I’d at least pushed the envelope.

“Every woman kisses another woman in college, sweetie.”

Damn. So much for sounding more unconventional then I’d already shown him. Clearly, he was far more experienced. I was the eager student.

“I’d like you to give it some thought,” he texted.

“Think about what? Kissing a woman?”

“I’d like to see you doing more than just kiss her.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Where did he fit in his threesome scenario? Would he be the director, telling us what to do? The center of attention? The cameraman?

“Just let these ideas sit, Jess. See if they resonate. Play with them.”

77

Four days went by without Daniel answering my texts, so I tried calling, but it went right to voicemail.

I rehashed everything I’d said and done to try and figure out what was wrong. Was it because I balked at the idea of a threesome? Worst of all, I hadn’t told anyone about Daniel, so I had to fret alone over his silence. The whole thing was way too complicated, and secretive, to share. But it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why are you moping around?” Ian asked, packing his gym clothes to head out.

“I’m not moping around. Why do you ask that?”

“Geez, Mom, you’ve moped on and off for a year. Do you really think I don’t know a mope when I see one?” He gave me a hug before heading out the back door. “Stop moping,” he called out before the door shut.

I spent the rest of the night