“He was so angry,” she says, wide-eyed along with her commentary. “Like so, so angry.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, because you were out of it. His concern was sincere. All command and intensity.”
“I can’t think why,” I murmur. “I barely know him.” I just know he smells delicious and that I can’t stop thinking about him. Yet he didn’t even kiss me. Maybe my breath smelled like a dog’s bum after being drugged and vomiting, but when I turned up on his doorstep, I’d made sure it was as fresh as a (minted) daisy! He’d looked so sexy, and he’d made me so hot and bothered with his teasing. He was provocative, intentionally so, and he behaved the same way at Sandy’s dinner. Maybe that’s how he gets his kicks. Tormenting women until they burst.
And goodness, did I burst.
The Oscar for best non-penetrative orgasm goes to:
Niko Vanyin.
“Didn’t you say he’s a friend of your brother’s?”
I snap back to myself and the moment. Did I tell her that? Reluctant to discuss my connection to him, I make a vague gesture. It’s not quite a shrug, not that she pays attention anyway as she squints at something in the distance.
“My God, talk of the devil! Isn’t that him over there?”
“Where?” My head whips around, following the direction of her gaze, but that jolt of excitement pops like a burst balloon as Tamsin presses her hand to her mouth and begins to laugh. Actually, she laughs so hard, her feet come up off the floor. “Very funny,” I mutter, sending her a stinking look.
“So you don’t really know who he is, and you’re not bothered, or even interested, hmm?”
“Get lost,” I mutter, though as I lift my glass to my mouth, I find myself smiling around my straw. “It would just never work between us.”
Tamsin’s eyebrows shoot to the top of her head as she nods knowingly. “I get it. This is a self-imposed moratorium after to-die-for sex.”
I wish. “He’s just off-limits, both to me and for conversational purposes.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “He’s Sandy’s friend, okay?”
“Oh. Right.” She nods as though committing this to memory. “So you’re being a good little sister so as not to become the topic of an awkward conversation over a pint down at the pub.”
“I’m not sure the pair are a pint down the pub types.” I’m also certain Niko doesn’t have an awkward bone in his body. Plus, he doesn’t exactly have that one of the lads vibe about him. He’s sort of enigmatic. I add the word to my list of Niko descriptors along with annoying and mercurial. I don’t really know him, of course, but I have noticed some things about him. He’s kind and thoughtful and pays more attention to me than any man ever has. He’s also confusing. I definitely get mixed signals from him, the kind that have kept me awake at night. Urgh. I don’t want to keep thinking about him.
“Ah, but no one wants to hear you talk about how good your new girlfriend gives head when the new girlfriend is your sister.”
“On the nose, as usual, Tam,” I say, despite her being nowhere near close. Is she even listening? “How about we change the subject now?” Because I’m not protecting my brother, he is.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, before perking up again. “Oh! Tell me about the new baby.”
I press my hand to my chest as it fills with warmth. “She is just darling.” My heart literally melts at the mention of my new addition, love pouring from my eyes like cartoon hearts, I’m sure. “Her little face.” I make as though to squish it. “Those dark, soulful eyes, and her great big silky ears!”
“She’s got oversized ears?” Tamsin pulls a face.
“Absolutely not!” I answer in defense of my lovely girl. “They’re gorgeous. She’ll grow into them.”
“That’s what my mother said about me but look who’s still wearing her hair long.”
“You don’t have big ears!”
“I look like a cab with the doors open when I wear my hair in a ponytail.”
“Not true,” I answer with a giggle. Okay, maybe just a little bit.
“Who looks after the baby while you’re at work?”
“I’ve been taking her.” I pull a eek face. “The boss is on a buying trip. Which means she’s probably recuperating after plastic surgery, so I have a few weeks.” By then, I hope to have trained her out of peeing on the art installations. I’m pretty sure she’s improved one or two of them.
“I can’t believe you got yourself a puppy.”
“Me either.” I grin because I didn’t. “She was a belated birthday gift to myself.” That’s my cover story, and I’m sticking to it. Because the truth is just a little trickier to unravel.
“Have you decided on a name yet?”
“I was going to call her Aston.”