“You seemed to drift away just now, and I was wondering what had occupied your thoughts so deeply. Surely, you’re not having daydreams about Justin Timberlake?”
“Justin Timberlake was in *NSYNC, not the Backstreet Boys.”
I rolled my eyes at him, and he laughed.
“Ask me if I care.”
“I didn’t say you cared. I was just correcting you because what you said was wrong. Ugh.” I shook my head in frustration. “What do you want, Xander? You’re annoying me.”
“You. Again. In your bed. Under your Backstreet Boys poster, crying out my name and singing ‘Quit Playing Games (with My Heart).’ ”
“Oh.” My jaw dropped at his presumptuousness and at the fact that he knew the name of a boy-band song.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“You have five seconds to tell me what you really want, and then I suggest you leave my room. I’m this close to telling my sister about you, you dirty pig.”
“Telling your sister what about me?” He laughed. “That you met me at a wedding last weekend and then proceeded to have sex with me at the church?”
“We didn’t have sex at the church,” I protested. “We-we …” I sputtered out at him, not sure what to say. “You’re a pig.”
“You said that before.” He grinned. “And I stand corrected. We didn’t have sex at the church. Well, not technically. Not if you mean my cock in your?—”
“Xander,” I cut him off, my face officially the color fire-engine red.
I could be in one of those picture books that they made for toddlers to learn the colors. When everyone thought of bright red, they would think of the color on my face during this conversation with Xander, miracle tongue worker and jerk.
“Yes?” He laughed. “I was just agreeing with you. Technically, my tongue inside of you doesn’t qualify as fornication. Though what we did in the church is a type of sex, right? If we’re being absolutely correct, I believe that oral sex is still sex, but I don’t know how technical we’re being.” His eyes mocked me as he continued, “So, yes, you’re correct; we didn’t have sex at the church. Not the fullwe could be in a porn movietype of sex. However, we did havemy mouth between your legs made you comequasi-sex, and then we did have full-on porno sex in my hotel room later that night.” He paused. “Does that make you feel better?”
“No, that does not make me feel better.” I grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the door and closer to the bed. “And keep your voice down. What if someone hears you?”
“Would that be a problem?” He cocked his head.
“What do you think?”
“We’re not back on that again, are we?” He grabbed my hands and pulled them up to his face. “Your nails need cutting.”
He studied them for a few seconds, and I pulled my hands away from him.
“What?” I frowned, distracted by his comment. “What are you talking about?”
“I was just saying, you need a manicure.” He shrugged. “Your fingernails are long, and the nail polish is chipping off.”
“Are you fucking joking with me right now?” My jaw dropped. “You’re the most insufferable?—”
“Pig—I know.” He finished my sentence for me.
“No. I was going to say asshole.” My eyes narrowed as I stared at the nonchalant smile on his face. “You’re an asshole.”
“That gives me an idea.” He grinned, and he grabbed my waist and pulled me toward him.
“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting reacquainted with you.” He laughed as he looked down into my face, his lips dangerously close to mine as his fingers slipped to my ass.
“Hey.” I jumped back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, I was touching your ass because you gave me an idea.” His voice suddenly became seductively low.
