‘Closeted gay boyfriends also have dicks,’ Ella says with a one-shouldered shrug. ‘They’re just a little mean with it. Still, I suppose I have him to thank for my awesome blow job technique.’
I begin to laugh, doubly so as she makes a lewd gesture involving her hand, cheek, and tongue, right at the moment Tate choses to approach the table again. My first thought is that we’re being a little rowdy, that maybe his other customers are sending our table a lot of dirty looks, but his open, smiling expression seems to say otherwise.
‘Enjoying yourselves, ladies?’
‘Very much so,’ Ella says, her head moving like a nodding dog. ‘Brunch was delicious. A visit to this beautiful and very respectable establishment has made for a perfect Sunday.’
‘Respectable,’ Tate repeats, cocking a teasing brow in my direction, a strange sort of gleam in his eye. ‘Maybe Miss Landry would care to visit after closing hours. We’re not so respectable then.’
He doesn’t wait for me to reply, which is just as well given that my jaw is on the table.
‘He surnamed you,’ Paisley crows, ‘I thought you didn’t know him?’ I don’t, but he does look familiar.From where, though?
‘And delivered an invitation to a disreputable experience.’ Ella giggles, all comic wide-eyed.
‘That’s not what I heard,’ I reply, the tips of my ears fiery again.
‘Then you want your hearing tested,’ Paisley retorts.
‘Not interested in men, huh? Good for you it doesn’t work the other way around.’
Chapter 9
Flynn
I send her a text. I get no answer, my expression twisting when I note it’s been almost immediately read.She might be busy, I reason, so I chuck my phone down on the couch cushion, telling myself I’ll leave it a while. I flick on the TV, a little fucked off.
Two one-night stands months apart is hardly the foundation of an addiction, but maybe I should be examining this. Is my eagerness a warning? Bad enough that I’ve been thinking about her since the wedding. What’s that about? We fucked, and while I was sleeping, she fucked off. That should’ve been that. End of. Her prerogative to leave, and certainly no skin off my nose. Only, it wasn’t like that. Not then and not since. In St Lucia, at the wedding, I was frustrated that she wasn’t there the next morning, but I shrugged it off. Ate my brekkie under an endless blue sky that reminded me of home, then boarded a plane back to London, my second home. And then . . . I might’ve thought about her a little. Usually with my cock in my hand. But I haven’t obsessed. No way.
But yesterday—what the fuck was I thinking? I sure as shit wasn’t thinking with my big head. Yesterday wasalllittle head thinking. I didn’t consider the consequences of planning some half-cocked seduction, only that the ingenuity or the cuteness factor might get me laid again. If I’d thought about it properly, I might’ve realised I was running the risk of feeling like this again. Used. Not good enough. Because despite saying all was hunky-dory waking in an empty hotel room, I was still left with a sense I’d been dumped like a used cock sock—a used condom.
It gives the adage “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” a whole new meaning. I mean, I’ve never had that mindset with womenpersonally, but I can tell you it feels pretty shithouse being on the receiving end. The reverse psychology has totally worked on me because I feel like I need to see her again real soon. And what the fuck! I didn’t even get a full night out of it this time before she had me pulling up my jeans, saying her brother might walk in. She couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. So why am I so eager to get into her knickers again?
With a huff, I chuck my head back against the sofa, ignoring the itch in my fingers to pick up the phone. Until, what do you know, it rings.
‘How do you have my number?’
Nohello, noI’m just returning your call.Noaprès sexcoyness or seduction. All the same, I’m still smiling.
‘Magic.’
‘No, really,’ Chastity huffs.
‘I should’ve been called Mike,’ I say with a happy sigh. ‘Magic Flynn just doesn’t have the same ring to it.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Her words run together a little too easily, which makes me think she might’ve been drinking. ‘Something tells me you’ve got moves Mike couldn’t compete with.’
‘Was that a compliment?’ Alert the press!
‘It might be,’ she says, all teasing tone.She’s definitely been drinking. The only compliments she’s ever paid me were in the throes of sex.
‘Duchess, I’ve got moves you wouldn’t believe.’
‘I’m always suspicious when a man needs to blow his own horn...’
‘Have you met me?’ I say, pointing at my bare chest like she can see. ‘I don’t need to blow myself.’
‘You probably could if you tried.’ Her words are an equal weight of titillation and taunt.This woman.I find myself laughing, a deep burst of laughter springing from the depths of my chest.
