And I’m not sure how I want to react.
That’s a lie.
I want to tell him I’m glad I stayed, but the words don’t find their way out.
“Are you regretting that decision now?”
His fingers pause, warm against my scalp, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “This isn’t exactly how I thought the evening would go,” he finally says.
“Which part? Sitting on the sidelines with an ice pack on your”—I gesture downward vaguely—“heritage?”
He snorts, then winces. “Don’t make me laugh. You assaulted me with a vibrator.”
I laugh until I almost can’t breathe. “I did not. It attacked us.”
“You dropped it on my face.”
I lose it completely.
Laughter comes out of me so loud and unflattering and impossible to rein in.
“You think that’s funny?” He doesn’t look a pinch of insulted.
“Yes.” The single word is a cackle, and I’m pretty sure any flirting up to the point is over after this breakdown. “And completely your fault.”
“My fault?” He presses his hand against his chest, and I miss it immediately. “You’re the one who crashed into me.”
“Pft. I brushed past you. You’re a big guy who can handle a little brush.”
He snorts. “A little brush?”
I sit back. “Are you saying I’m strong enough to knock you over?”
He grins. “There was a rolling pin.”
My eyes flicker to his crotch. I don’t mean for them to. I don’t think I’ll ever hear the word rolling pin again and not think of his crotch.
Thanks, Jaclyn.
“It’s alright.” My eyes snap up to meet his amused smirk. “All my bits and pieces. They’re all fine and in good working condition.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
He leans closer to me. “I meant because you kneed me in the groin and I saw stars.”
I did do that.
Right.
Yeah.
“I’m glad. Good. Yes.” I sit straighter. “I’m glad you’re not more seriously hurt.”
“It seems the rolling pin got you.”
My eyes fall to his lap again.
Oh, good lord, what is wrong with me?
