‘Two compliments in one minute? Watch yourself, you’ll get a nosebleed.’
‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she says crisply, her tone all business. Chastity is the kind of woman who can cut you down from the knees with a look or a sharp word.I wonder if I’m turning into a bit of a masochist?It’s hard to reconcile her with the girl telling me she’s imagining me with my lips around my own dick.
Note to self: Find out her favourite tipple for next time we’re in touching distance. Tipsy chicks are fun.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ I respond. ‘I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.’
‘Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing? What colour lingerie I have on?’ Before I have a chance to protest or correct her, she carries on. ‘Pink. And lacy.’
I close my eyes and tip back my head, my mind going exactly to there.Pale pink . . . no, dusky. Same as her nipples.
‘Right, my turn.’
‘Sorry, duchess. While that was good to hear and imagine, it wasn’t what I wanted to ask.’
A frustrated noise rattles down the line before she adds, ‘Oh, go on, then.’
‘On a scale ofsmashedtojust tipsy enough to legally consent to me coming around and fucking you senseless,exactly how drunk are you?’
‘The latter.’
‘Right, I’m putting my boots on.’
‘You’re funny, But that’s not happening. Again, I mean.’
‘That’s cute.’
‘I mean it, Flynn. We can’t keep doing this.’
‘What, you mean we can’t fuck once every six months?’ I say, trying to get a rise out of her. A man’s got to get his kicks somewhere.
‘No,’ she answers softly, not taking the bait.
‘Then I guess you’re never gonna know if I can blow myself.’
I find my smile widening at the sound of her snort-giggle andnotat the thought of blowing myself. I’m not being interested in the taste of my own dick, unless it’s a part of some kind of girl-to-Flynn transference. Plus, I’m pretty fit but not a fuckin’ yogi.
‘You can’t stop a girl’s imagination, Flynn.’
My reply? Just a groan. A carnal groan. God bless this petite blonde purveyor of porn.
‘My turn,’ she demands, all business again. ‘How’d you get my number?’
‘Chastity, I’ve been inside you twice. Don’t tell me you feel violated by me being able to call you once in a while.’
She sighs. ‘No, that’s not exactly it. I’m just trying to work out who the snake is. The Judas in our mutual social circle.’
‘We have a mutual social circle?’ That’s news to me.
‘It’s more like an oval—imagine a Venn diagram.’ I’d rather imagine her tits in or out of pink lace.I’m not fussy.Sadly, I sense she’s on a roll, and as such, probably not receptive to my preferred topic currently. ‘That little overlap between my circle and yours is pretty small, but someone inhabiting that tiny space is trying to make you and me a thing.’
‘By giving me your phone number?’
‘Exactly!’
‘I don’t know how to break it to you,’ I reply, rubbing a knuckle against the corner of my eye, ‘but no one’s trying to fix us up.’ Though Keir seems to think some kind of relationship between us is inevitable.A man can’t live by one-nighters alone.I’ve done pretty good so far—two for two with Chastity—so it shows what he knows.
‘Then how did you get my number?No onehas my number,’ she repeats in a slightly panicked tone. What the fuck!
