I cram my hand into my pocket again to keep from fist pumping as Lucifer asks, “And would you like a matching bra for each pair?”
Standing to the side, I’m further tortured as the women finger lacy bras and discuss cup sizes. My palms are sweaty, and my mouth is like the Sahara.
Morgan the panty pimp leads us to the cash register. “Will that be cash or card?”
Before I know what’s happening, I’ve smacked my debit card down on the counter. “Card.” I don’t even remember getting my wallet out.
Jordie’s head whips around, but I fix her with a glare that says not to fucking argue with me. I’m right on the edge of sanity. As we leave the store, I can’t help but feel like I won some small victory when Jordie picked the red panties. I don’t even know why I care because I will never see them on her anyway.
No matter how much I wish otherwise.
This little pink striped bag I’m carrying can’t weigh more than a pound, but it feels like it’s holding a bomb. A lacy, sexy panty bomb. Jordie’s arm is tucked in my elbow again when we enter the hotel and walk to the elevators.
“You didn’t have to buy those,” she says, and I can sense her gaze on the side of my face.
I don’t look her way, instead concentrating very hard on pushing the button to our floor. “It’s fine,” I say gruffly.
She’s silent for a moment before blurting, “I haven’t had sex.”
Now my head turns to fully face her. My lips learn how to function again and I reply, “It’s been a long time for me too.”
Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Does she want me as much as I want her?
“No, I mean ever. I’m a virgin.”
Okay, forget what I said about the panty bomb. This is the real bombshell of the night, but before I can respond, the elevator doors open, and a group of men enter. They’ve obviously been drinking, their voices loud and their ties loosened. One of them eyes Jordie with a slow up-and-down perusal that pisses me right the fuck off. I step slightly in front of her and give the asshole the eye of death.
He has to look up at me since I’ve got a good four inches on him, and he quickly swivels around to look at the elevator numbers. The group gets off on the tenth floor, leaving us alone in the car, and I feel my defensive posture relax.
Neither of us says a word as we exit on our floor. Jordie’s hands twist at her waist, and I take one of them and place it firmly on myupper arm as we walk down the carpeted corridor. When we get to our doors, I don’t even hesitate. I use my key card and open mine, pulling her inside with me.
Whirling, I ask, “Why did you tell me that?”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, which is painted a soft red color that’s held my attention all night and had me thinking thoughts I should be avoiding.
“Because I’m tired of holding onto my damn V-card,” she says, frustration glazing each word. “It’s time for someone to punch it.” She smacks a fist against her other palm, and I try not to smile at how damn cute she is.
“And why did you tell me specifically?” I think I know, but I want to hear it from those plump lips.
Her chin dips, and I place two fingers beneath it, lifting until our faces are level. I don’t say anything aloud but compel her with my eyes to tell me the truth.
“Because I want you to be the card puncher, Phoenix.”
This time I can’t help my grin, though that’s the last thing I should be doing. I should be ferrying her to her room and telling her to never speak of this again. But I don’t.
“And that would make you the punchee?”
Jordie giggle-snorts and nods. “I guess. And I don’t want you to think I want anything else from you. Just, you know…”
“My dick,” I fill in, and the apples of her cheeks go crimson.
“I mean, I’m not looking for love, and I don’t expect a date or any romance stuff. I just want it over with so I’m no longer a virgin. Like a simple in-and-out procedure. But I don’t want to sleep with some rando. I’d rather it be someone I…” She hesitates, and I wait to see what she’s going to say. When she speaks, her single word almost knocks me off my feet. “Trust.”
“And you trust me?” I feel like I’m twenty feet tall. Like I could chase down a freight train and thump it off the tracks with my bare hands.
“Yes. I think you probably have enough experience to know what to do and not make me feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m pretty sure you just called me a man-whore, McNamara.”
