What a Girl Wants Read Free Page B

boyfriends. Vanilla and unimaginative—cursory kissing, no boob play, a hasty choochie rub, bypassing an expectant clit, a minute’s worth of pumping, ending with a jizz-busting grunt. It wasn’t entirely their fault, she hadn’t brought a lot of experience to bed and they hadn’t appreciated her desire to use her trusty vibrator afterward instead of indulging in the obligatory spooning session.
    “Yoga’s boring,’ Maddie said. “I prefer mountain biking and zip-lining. Now, that’s endurance.” Stamina would come in handy for the bang-me-every-which-way-Alex marathon.
    “Yeah, you can keep those thrills.”
    Reece turned the page, illustrating a naked woman suspended in mid air, balancing herself with one hand on the ground, legs apart and her lover glued to her from behind. “I’m not athletic enough for some of these positions,” Reece said, flipping through a few more pages. “Give me good ole doggy with Stuart MacShortie Short.”
    “You dumped him because he was lousy in bed.”
    Reece turned to the last page. “No, he dumped me when I caught the bouquet at my sister’s wedding.”
    Maddie stood and folded the lingerie into the basket.
    “Hey,” Reece said, “What does this sticky note say?”
    Maddie watched her friend’s reaction. “It’s my plan.”
    “Your plan? Oh, this can’t be good.” Reece brought the book closer to her face to read Maddie’s scribbled notes. Her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “A sexual what?”

Chapter Two
     
    “Man is no match for woman where mischief reigns.”
    —Honore de Balzac
     
    “A sexual what?”
    Alex Donovan raised his voice louder than he’d intended on the patio of the Makana Island Bistro while having a late lunch with Maddie. He shook his head in utter disbelief. He was sure he had heard her suggestion correctly. However, his mind had frozen for a moment.
    “Sexual boot camp,” Maddie said, refilling her glass with the carafe of red wine.
    Baffled, he tried to focus on her bizarre idea. “Is this carnal academy for your piece?”
    “Nope . ” Saluting him, she gave him a salacious smile. “PrivateSaunders reporting for duty, Sergeant Donovan.”
    “I’m going to need reinforcements for this one.” He held his wine glass out for her to refill it. “You called me sergeant a few weeks ago.” He drank some wine. “Mystery solved.”
    She gazed at him from the top of her glass through her lush lashes. “ Drill sergeant’s more like it.”
    He grinned at her latest shit-disturbing lark. “You? Follow orders?”
    “There is that.” She speared a tortellini and a meatball onto her fork. “But I’m willing to learn. Basic training shouldn’t take too long.”
    He tilted his wine glass toward hers. “I think you’ve spilled one glass too many, Saunders.”
     “I only had a few ounces.” She picked up a breadstick. “I can handle the heavy artillery.” Her lips formed a delicate “O” as she bit off a small piece. “Imagine what advanced combat will be like.” With her fork, she arranged two meatballs beside each other on her plate, pushed a tortellini between them and moved the breadstick back and forth on top of the tortellini.
    Well, fuck me. That’s the first time his cock had ever twitched—minor movement, but still—over a plate of meatballs and tortellini she’d shaped into missionary position—however, the breadstick was a thin and pitiful replica of a dick.
    In spite of his astonishment, the animation on her flushed face drew a smile out of him. “You finished molesting your lunch?”
    She trailed a long, slim finger around her plate. “I spotted a shop not far from here—Adam and Eve’s Naughty Mart.” Her voice oozed with provocative suggestion. “Do you think they sell his and hers camo lingerie—”
    “Men don’t wear lingerie.”
    “We could still browse.” Lifting her glass under her upturned nose, she inhaled the wine. “I’m thinking we could use handcuffs, a whistle—”
    “I