‘Sex god? Is the sex god in the room with us?’ he asks with a nod towards me.
‘Oh fuck, no.’ I figure I shouldn’t even bother trying to lie about my non-existent sex life. ‘I’ll have you know that I’ve had perfectly adequate sex for my entire adult life, thank you,’ I say with my chin high.
He raises a brow. ‘Adequate?’
‘That’s right.’
He’s quiet for a moment, his inky blue eyes darkening.
‘Interesting,’ he murmurs.
My cheeks burn under his relentless gaze, and I successfully manage to resist the urge to glare at him. I go to take another sip of my drink instead, only to find the glass empty.
Placing it gingerly on the table in front of me, I look back at him, feeling daring.
‘Why is that “interesting”? Do I… come across as a sexually satisfied woman, or something?’
‘I’m not sure ifanyonecomes across as a sexually satisfied woman,’ he replies, his brows furrowed.
I think about it for a moment.
‘Some do,’ I disagree.
‘Okay,’ he says, sounding doubtful. ‘DoIcome across as a sexually satisfied man?’ He cocks an eyebrow.
‘Yeah,’ I reply easily with a shrug.
He breathes a laugh. ‘What – what does that mean?’
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ I say with another shrug, praying he drops it.
He’s suddenly closer to me and seeking out my gaze. ‘It must mean something, what kind of energy am I giving off? I’m a bit concerned by the observation, if I’m honest.’
‘You don’t need to be concerned; don’t overthink it,’ I say airily, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into and how exactly I’m going to get out of it.
‘Seriously, what do you mean?’ he asks again. He looks genuinely troubled.
I heave a frustrated sigh. ‘Why do youcareso much about what I mean?’
‘Because maybe I don’t wantto give off “sexually satisfied man” energy, as you put it?’
‘No? You’d rather come across sexuallyunsatisfied like us poor creatures?’
Now he looks puzzled. He shakes his head as if to clear it. ‘And you thinkyoucome across as sexually unsatisfied?’
I hesitate, biting my lip.
‘Or are you just saying that youaresexually unsatisfied?’ he asks, his voice cooler, quieter. My body immediately betrays me, a sudden flush of warmth hitting my core.
‘I never said that,’ I snap.
‘I’m just trying to clarify,’ he says.
‘We’re insane for having this conversation.’
‘You started it,’ he quips before tossing back another sip of his drink, my eyes travel to his throat as he swallows.
Did I?? How did this conversation even start? I can’t remember. But I am able to recognise that having an alcohol-fuelled conversation aboutthistopic is a mistake purely by the reaction my body is having. A colossal mistake.
