The Pleasure Contract by Caitlin Crews (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

A thrill grips my stomach. I’m so happy four of my closest friends have flown in for the weekend, eager to throw me a bachelorette party. Although to me, having them here, it’s less about the partying and more about us being together again—it’s been far too long since we’ve hung out, chatted and spilled secrets over tequila. Not that I’d ever tell them my deepest, darkest secrets. No, I’m the good girl, a senator’s daughter who’s always under scrutiny. If my secret dirty cravings ever landed in the wrong hands—were ever exposed to the wrong people—it could destroy my father’s good reputation and my mother’s high-end art gallery.

“I found him,” Mia yells, pulling my thoughts back. “Get ready to party, girlfriend,” she says. “I plan to feed you so much tequila you won’t be able to walk down the aisle.”

I chuckle at that. My wedding isn’t until August, so I’m sure I’ll be walking just fine by then. We’re having my bachelorette party mid-July simply because we all lead extremely busy lives and this weekend was the only one that worked for everyone—and who wouldn’t want to let loose in the Caribbean, right?

Oh, just my fiancé, Bentley.

I sigh. Bentley and I have been here for a week, and I thought we were going to spend time together before the girls all arrived, but sadly, his phone has seen more lip-action than me. Yes, he’s a hard-working lawyer with his eyes on the Senate—my father loves that my fiancé is following in his footsteps—but we were going to treat this vacation like a honeymoon. Yes, yes, I realize our wedding is weeks away, and we’re putting the cart before the horse, so to speak, but I’d rather an early honeymoon than to postpone until God knows when—or forever.

I have a big case coming up, Gemma. At this stage in my career, work must come first.

As his words bounce around inside my head, my gaze drifts to a gorgeous multicolor butterfly that just landed on the passionflowers weaving their way in and out of the wrought-iron trellis. So pretty, yet it does little to soothe that incessant ache inside me, one that’s been there since my college days.

“It’s about a thirty-minute drive,” I tell Mia. “I can’t wait until you guys get here.”

“Same,” Mia says. “Hey, are you okay? You sound a bit funny.”

“Fine,” I quip, injecting a bit of enthusiasm into my voice, but that’s like wrapping a gift with cellophane. Pointless. She knows me too well.

“Everything okay with you and Bentley?”

“Fine, fine.” I wave my hand even though she can’t see me. “He’s just been rather busy this week.”

She goes quiet for a second, and I brace myself. Mia has never been a Bentley fan. She’s questioned his love for me in the past, and mine for him. When she says things like “I plan to feed you so much tequila you won’t be able to walk down the aisle,” she’s only half teasing.

But I’ve made my choice, and she’s here to support me. That’s what best friends do. Besides, it’s not like I’m ever going to hook back up with my college love, Josh Walker, from college. No, he took my virginity and then broke my heart back at Penn State. We met when I used the Penn Pal app to find a safe escort home from a party. He was a little wild, different from the men in my social circle, and I fell for him. Hard. When he pushed me out of his life, for reasons I still can’t understand, it destroyed me. After college, I vowed one thing to myself: no more bad boys.

I almost snort. Bentley is what one would consider the complete opposite of a bad boy, which is why my father likes him. Sometimes I think he likes him better than his only daughter. My father introduced us, actually. Bentley Banks is the son of dad’s colleague, and my father had made a list of his attributes, informing me he checked all the right boxes and would be great husband material.

Sadly, there is one box he’ll never check. No one has. Not even Josh Walker from Penn State. The fault is not entirely theirs. My deepest, darkest bedroom secrets are mine and mine alone. Not that Bentley could even come close to giving me what I want behind closed doors, even if I told him about my salacious desires—and gave directions. Josh, however... But I’ll never know, because he sent me packing and my secrets are tucked away safely, locked in my heart behind an impenetrable vault. Why, you ask? Oh, because I was brought up to be prim and proper, and it’s wrong to want such dirty things between the sheets. I never even touched myself until I was in my early twenties. Sinful. My mother’s word regarding masturbation or sex for only pleasure, not mine.

“Listen, Gemma, if you’re having second thoughts—”

“I’m not,” I say, knowing Bentley is a good fit for my life, outside the bedroom anyway, and I do truly care about him and his well-being. “Just hurry up and get here,” I say. “I miss you guys. That’s all that’s going on,” I say, driving the point home—this discussion is over.

“I’ll pay the driver extra to speed,” she says, and that pulls a laugh out of me.

I end the call and walk the long length of our pool toward the villa as birds chirp in the trees overhead. Bentley told me he was going for a swim, but he’s nowhere to be found. As moisture pools on my arms, I step back into our air-conditioned villa and pad quietly across the tiled floor. I search for my fiancé to let him know the girls are on their way, but my steps slow when I hear whispered words coming from the den.

I walk quietly as an uneasy sensation trickles through my blood. Why the heck is he whispering? Does he not want me to overhear something? Call it