He’s handsome, I can’t deny it. When we touch, sparks fly. When we kiss?
I want to continue kissing him.
In private.
Without an audience.
I’m not his type though. And I saw his type at the engagement party thanks to Lindy. He likes them dark haired and voluptuous. Women who dress sexily and are confident in their every move.
Meaning the complete opposite of me.
“I’m curious,” he finally says.
“About what?”
“You.”
We’re both quiet again, my mind going nonstop.
He’s probably just playing me.
“There’s nothing to be curious about.” I lift my chin, hoping I look stronger than I feel. “According to you, I’m a scared little virgin.”
“Yet according to you, you’re an experienced woman who doesn’t need—or want it to be—gentle,” he throws back at me.
My entire body prickles with awareness at his words. The way he said I don’t need it gentle.
Is he referring to what I think he is?
“Are you talking about…”
“Sex?” He walks further into my bedroom, drawing closer to me. Close enough that I can smell him, his cologne lingering in the air, along with his own unique scent. I subtly breathe him in, my head starting to spin.
He smells really good.
Too good.
I glance down at his hands, noticing the rings. He only has a couple on one hand, and I’m curious.
How many rings does he own? And how does he decide which ones to wear?
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “That.”
“Can’t say the word?” He’s even closer now. To the point that he’s standing directly in front of me and Doja is rubbing around his legs. Again, the shitty little traitor. “Are you one of those who can only spell it out instead of say it? S-E-X?”
“Of course not.”
He smiles, his expression sly. “I bet you only ever do it in the dark.”
I almost say I don’t ever really do it at all, but I keep my mouth shut.
I think of Seamus. The only time I’ve been with a man romantically, and I can’t lie—it had been magical. He was so tender and sweet. So incredibly careful. He knew I was cautious, unsure and he didn’t push. He made sure I was satisfied, always asking me if I liked it, where did I want him to touch me. He was considerate in bed. An unselfish lover.
It hurt, his betrayal. It meant everything he did and said was meaningless.
I was meaningless to him.
I wonder what Perry is like in bed. Maybe he’s a quick lay. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am or whatever that old saying is. Two-pump chump?