“Worst date by far.”
“How bad?”
“He shit in the elevator.”
Decker’s green eyes widen. “Say that again?”
“I need to shower. I feel… gross. Not one of these dates has been promising for more than five minutes—some of them beingthe five minutes before I met them—and I’m dangerously close to heading out to the balcony and tossing myself over.”
“Because the dates are bad?”
“Yes! I was so sure I would find the man of my dreams with this stupid app. But then there’s also the drought everyone and their dog can see. I’m pretty sure I’m going crazy,” I say, tossing my hands in the air. “But at least I’m not desperate. I didn’t screw the guy who shit in the elevator and told me he lost his virginity to his adopted second cousin for fifty bucks.”
To his credit, Decker doesn’t laugh at my crash out. He smirks, but I think he can tell I’m about one step away from truly losing it. “That’s… a lot to dissect.”
“It’s exactly as it sounds. Is it possible to go insane from not getting laid? Because I’m bordering on feeling like I need to be committed. Maybe a doctor there will treat me for hysteria like they did to women in the fifties.”
Walking up to me, Decker leans against the wall but doesn’t touch me. “If you’re really in need, I can help.”
“Help?”
“You know… scratch the itch. The one the vibrating toy can’t reach anymore.”
The cockiness in his tone as he brings it upagainmakes me want to smack him, but then I realize that the only way he’d know that is if he was here. Which he hasn’t been. “How—”
“You’re not the only one who can hear through the walls, Holly.”
“You haven’t been home…”
“I’ve been home. I’ve just been… reflecting.”
Reflecting? What the hell does that mean? And I push down the panic as I think about what I’ve done believing I was in the apartment alone.
“As much as I’d love to see if you’re as good as your dates make you sound, you know my brother will kill us both if we venture into that area.”
“Will’s not here, Holly.”
I want to say he’s kidding—just pulling my chain—but there’s no sign in his tone or his gaze that says he’s anything other than dead serious. And I really, really want to know if he’s as good as he seems.
“If you really want to help, you can come join me in the shower. The place I need to scrub off the worst fifteen-minute date of my entire life. Which is impressive, considering I watched a guy I almost hooked up with get sucked off by the bride of the wedding we went to together.”
“You have the most interesting stories,” he calls after me as I walk into the room.
“Trust me, I’m so over them.”
Stripping down, I walk into the en suite bathroom Will won in a coin toss. Last night, I watched a video on how to swap out the showerhead for a detachable one to have a little fun in the shower—the jet setting ones—and I’m thinking that will be the purchase I make tomorrow.
I can’t believe how frustrated I am in general. I just want to cry. This app has been the biggest disappointment of my life, and I think I’m even further way from finding the man of my dreams than I was before.
Maybe I just expected too much. I know better than to have too high of expectations. When they’re too high, there’s no option but to be disappointed. Nothing can live up to the idea in my head.
The shower door opens, and I gasp when I turn to see Decker. All of Decker. “I really want to help you find some relief.”
Considering the erection pointing at me, I can’t say he’s joking. I open my mouth to say something, but his lips claim mine, histongue sweeping into my mouth and swallowing whatever words I’d planned to speak.
Whatever reservations there were about us getting together like this no longer exist, and he pins me against the shower wall. His nipple ring scrapes against my skin in the most delicious way, and I realize he has his member pierced. At the tip and the base.
No wonder these women cry out for him.
