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“Yes,” shesighed,notliking wherethis lineof questioning wasgoing.
“Doesheworship you in bed?”
Her breathing hitched,herbodyremembering justhowwell hehadtakenpleasurein her body. “Yes.”
“Well,ifyou askme,whichI knowyou are,you need togivethatman a call.”
“You don’teven likehim,”Gigi shotback.
Jen shrugged. “I don’thaveto.You do.”
Gigi tried tofind aholein Jen’slogic,butshewasright. Max madeherfeellike nobody had ever madeherfeel before.Perhapsshehadoverreacted,buthecould hardlyblame her. They’d just mutuallymasturbated in hisbed onlyminutesbefore hiswife,hissupposedlydead wife,showed up atthedoor. Shewasn’tafraid toadmitthatshewasintimidated.Thewomanwasstunning. She’d introduced herself asChelsea,although atthetime,Gigi’s mindwasfar fromretaining that information. Allsheknewwasthelittleworld shehad created withMaxwasbeginning tocrumble.
Sheshould haveheardhimout. Hewasgenuinelysorryforwhat had happened,butshewastoo embarrassed toeven considerwhathewasasking hertodo. Theonlything shewasfocusedonwas getting awayfromhimasfastasshecould;herhumiliation had been debilitating.
“So,whatareyougoing to do?”
Gigi considered Jen’squestion. Sheknewwhatshehad todo,butshedidn’thavethestrength tonight. Pouring herself another glassof vodka,shetopped off Jen’sand pickedup her drink. “We’re going to getdrunkand then I’ll deal with italltomorrow.”
