“You sure?”
Samantha runs her fingertips across the sword tattoo on my forearm. “Whatever the female equivalent is of every damned word you just said, that’s what I’m thinking, too.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Excellent.”
Her fingertips float up my arm, this time tracing the pirate design there. “However,” she says, and my body instinctively tenses. “As unbelievably sexy as all that was to me—and please believe me, it was—I feel the need to make a few things crystal clear, just so I don’t mislead you.”
I nod, my dick rock hard, my chest tight.
“First, I have zero hang-ups when it comes to sex—I absolutely love it.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m a big fan of it myself.”
“I gleaned that.” She smiles. “And I think that’s fantastic. Nothing wrong with that. But you need to know I don’t do no-strings sex. For me, sex is something special reserved for an exclusive relationship. I’m not talking about a ring, don’t worry, I’m just saying I need to know we’re both committed to there being nobody else.” She trains her blazing eyes on mine. “The good news for you, however, is that when I finally feel ready to say yes, you can be certain I’ll give myself to you completely, no holding back.”
My cock jolts. I can barely breathe. As crazy as it sounds, I’d promise this girl exclusivity right now and mean it, if it meant I could take her to my bed and fuck her tonight. In fact, fuck it, I’m tempted to tell her exactly that.
Oh, wait.
No.
I can’t do that.
Fuck my life.
Olivia.
Shit. Thanks to the bunny boiler, I can’t take Samantha to my bed tonight—I can’t even kiss her tonight, not when I woke up this morning in Olivia’s bed. Not when I still have Olivia’s kisses from earlier today on my lips and my break-up with her is mere hours old (and, arguably, maybe not even completely finalized?).
“I like to take things slow,” Samantha continues. “I’m sorry, it’s just how I’m wired. I’m a cautious person by nature.”
I clear my throat. “That’s fine with me.”
Samantha scrutinizes my face. “You’re sure I haven’t scared you off?”
“Not at all. Whenever the timing’s right, I have no doubt we’re gonna be the eighth wonder of the world.”
She chuckles.
“The slow boat to China, it is, sweetheart. But, um, just as a point of clarification: when you say you like to ‘take things slow,’ what’s the general timeframe you’re thinking about? Something along the lines of nine months or some fraction of that?”
She laughs. “A fraction of that. Maybe one-ninth, at most?” She arches an eyebrow. “Would that be doable for you?”
“Very,” I say, even though, admittedly, a month is probably the longest I’ve ever gone without sex in my adult life. But, hey, given what I feared Samantha might say about her timeline, a month sounds like falling off a log. “Just do me one favor, please,” I say. “For the love of God, tell me the ‘slightly embarrassing’ story of why thefuckyou’ve gone nine months without so much as a kiss. Honestly, I’m dying to know.”
“Oh, yeah.That.” She sighs and signals to the bartender. “Another round, Tim!” She shoots me a snarky look. “If I’m gonna tell you this stupid story with the kind of breathtaking honesty you just showed me, then I’m gonna need to be quite a bit drunker than this.”
11
Ryan
Samantha and I slam our empty shot glasses down onto the bar at the same time.
“Smooth,” she says.
“You feeling good, Argentina? ’Cause I’m feeling damned good.”
“Lemme see, Romeo.” She pinches her cheeks. “Cheeks numb. Inhibitions long gone. Body on fire. Judgment critically impaired.” She winks and flashes me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Yup. I’m feeling good.”
