“Jesus, you’re so beautiful, Jordan. I need to know if you’re as incredible as I’m imagining…”
I instinctively clamp my legs together. “No, it wasn’t so bad.”
“You see? It was good for you!”
It ruined my entire life. I managed to survive a whole year without a single orgasm, and now I can’t think of anything else.
“Yeah. I’d call it a nice distraction.” Hopefully, over the years, I’ve become a good liar.
“So, tell me,” she says, leaning forward and gesturing for me to do the same. “Is it true, what they say?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve read so many stories about him.”
“You and your gossip.”
“Are you seriously telling me that you’ve never been tempted to read up about him?”
“Why would I?” I ask, my gaze wandering out the window.
Obviously, I’ve taken a look at some of the articles – just like everyone else in town.
“I don’t know… Curiosity?”
“I wasn’t the one who used to drool at the thought of Niall Kerry when we were at school.”
“True. You thought he was stupid, self-centred, and incapable of displaying interest for anything that wasn’t a girl’s arse.”
“This arse…” His hands squeeze my butt cheeks, helping me move on top of him. “It’s even sexier than I remember.”
“E-exactly,” I mumble, trying to hide behind my mug.
Apparently, he still has a thing for backsides.
“What’s he like in bed?”
“Alright,” I comment, biting hard on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from crying out. I think I did enough yelling last night.
“You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?” Anya asks, frustrated.
“You know I hate talking about stuff like this.”
She huffs, sticking her fork into her noodles. “You’re so boring,” she complains, teasing. I force myself to smile, but I can’t help but listen to that voice in the back of my mind that tells me over and over that Iamboring. That I’m predictable, that I never let myself go, and that I have no idea how to seduce a man. It’s the same voice I’ve been listening to for years; and, from now on, I’ll never hear it again.
“Any plans for tonight?” Anya asks, finally changing the subject. “We could go out of town. There’s a new pub that’s just opened.”
I lift my hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I can’t go out two nights in a row.”
“How come? I always do.”
“First of all, you’re a lot younger than me.”
“Only by three years!”
“Trust me, after you turn thirty-five, every minute counts. Just enjoy the last few months. It’s all downhill from there.”
She rolls her eyes skyward and shovels another forkful into her mouth.
