Where is he going with this, and why is he moving?
The toys aren’t visible from where he is, but they will be if he comes around the counter.
“You don’t lie often.” He continues his impersonation of a nosy forensic investigator. I’m all for solving crimes, but he needs to mind his business. “On the rare occasion you do, you clench your throat and give vague responses. Like you are now.”
“Not true.”
He inches toward the end of the counter. “I see your sweat from here.”
Our stare-off ends when I make the mistake of glancing down. He rounds the corner before I get the chance to kick away the sex toys.
I toss my hands up. “Fine. You caught me, though it’s perfectly normal to enjoy self-pleasure. It’s safe, and I don’t have to worry about anyone annoying me or giving me the clap. I love touching myself, but I can’t get off.” For reasons I won’t reveal.
“I tried for hours. I’m wound up so tight I could snap. I haven’t had sex in years, and I would like to sleep without contemplating rubbing myself over a pillow to feel a tingle because the sex toysI had no business buying with a pending part-time job aren’t helping. They’re scattered all over the floor because I thought we were being robbed, and I tossed them. A thief making a snack before holding me at gunpoint sounds like the only action I’ll see, anyway.”
How’s that for mile-a-minute details? At this point, I’ll take a slice of cheese before bed. I need to pack my clothes and my unsatisfied vagina to fly back to Buffalo tomorrow.
I squat down and grab my waste of an investment. Fatigue and embarrassment are enough for me to bury my entire body somewhere in the desert.
Antonio drops to his haunches and holds my wrist. His quads are hard muscle under smooth caramel. His abs tense over the band of his boxer briefs, which holds a very noticeable bulge that’s teasing me to stare.
Between his legs, chest, and that weapon he calls a penis, someone is enjoying the best sleep of their life tonight.
“Let me help,” Antonio says, his silken voice a gentle whisper.
“Okay.”
Chapter 29
Miriam
The walk back to my room is a silent rhythm of steps. Who needs an in-depth discussion about sex toys and their function? It’s bad enough I can’t get Antonio out of my head, only for him to find me with all of the clitoral stimulators I could carry.
He doesn’t appear fazed. In fact, he hasn’t said a word since offering to hand-deliver the objects of my displeasure back to the corner where they belong.
The stare that’s trained on my back lifts the hairs on my nape under a bun of two-strand twists. I don’t understand him. Why’s he in our suite and not out doing whatever it is bachelors do in Vegas?
When we get to my room, I turn to face him. “Thank you for your assistance,” I say to his chest and push up my glasses. “Breakfast tomorrow?”
“Sit on the bed.”
“Pardon?”
“Sit. On. The. Bed.”
I force myself not to laugh at the man in front of me, who has newly cleaned sex toys in his hands and a crease in his forehead. There’s a joke here I’m not getting.
“I don’t understand.”
Antonio steps closer, forcing my eyes back up well-proportioned pectorals to a calm gaze that’s masking something below the surface. It’s the same stare he had right before he kissed me at the pool.
“It’s late,” I whisper over the uptick of my pulse. “I’m sure you want to go back out tonight.”
“I came straight here after going out with some of the guys.”
“Oh.” I nod.
“Are you done playing with yourself?” He says the words like I spent hours stuck on aBattletoadslevel and not searching for the cheat code to my vagina.
