When she doesn’t move, I say, “So you came in here wearing that just to tease me?”
“Maybe,” she confesses.
I might buy it if her chest wasn’t heaving, her nipples weren’t hard against the lace and her cunt slick. I might not be able to see that final point, but I know for a fact it is.
“Or maybe I was lonely.”
“And horny. Damn,” I say, rubbing myself through my boxers. “Did I forget to pack your little vibrating friend? Whoops.”
“You’re funny.”
“Not something I’ve been described as often.”
“Well, maybe others don’t know you like I do.”
“Fucking got that right, babe.”
Her eyes widen at my confession, but she doesn’t say anything for long seconds.
“Not Sloane?”
I can’t help but scoff at the thought. “No, not a fucking chance. All she sees is what she wants to see.”
“And what’s that?” Emmie asks, moving to the side and resting back against my wall, totally ignoring my gesture for her to come closer.
It seems we’re having a little heart to heart before I might get anything else.
Fine by me. I’m more than capable of playing the long game.
“A trophy to cling onto and help lift her up a few notches on the Knight’s Ridge social scale.”
“Huh,” she says, once again teasing the lace of her lingerie.
My brows lift, urging her to continue.
“Maybe we do have similar opinions of your little fuck toy.”
“I haven’t slept with her in… fuck,” I breathe, lifting my hand to push my hair back as I try to remember my last time with Sloane. “A really fucking long time. And when I did, it wasn’t very memorable.”
“How so?” she asks, digging for more.
“Because she wasn’t you.”
“Oooh,” she laughs. “Smooth, Cirillo. Very smooth.”
“It wasn’t a line, Em. It was the truth.”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“You’re such a cliché.”
I shrug, because it’s true.
“You’re not like any of the girls from my past, Emmie.”
“Been that many, huh?” she mocks.
“I haven’t kept a tally, if that’s what you mean. But I won’t pretend I was a virgin before you.”