“I feel like you’re licking my balls and punching them at the same time,” I say.
She bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re hilarious.”
“And you’re demonic.”
“I am. I really am.”
“Obviously.”
She shrugs. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s the way I am. I have four brothers. You show weakness with four brothers, you’re dead.”
“You havefourbrothers?”
She nods. “You’d be shocked what I’ve had to do to survive and thrive in a house with four guys. Holding off on kissing you ’til I get my way, even though all I wanna do right now is kiss the hell out of you—including sucking on that delectable lower lip of yours, by the way, mmm, that’s a sexy lower lip—is freaking child’s play. So give up now because Iwillget what I want. Just ask my brothers.I always win.”
I’m rendered speechless for a moment. “Well, joke’s on you because I also grew up with four brothers,” I finally manage to say. “All of them contained in the sole person of Jonas Faraday. You’d be shocked what I’ve had to do to survive and thrive in a house with a brother with four personalities. Holding off on kissing you ’til I get my way, even though all I wanna do right now is kiss the hell out of you—including biting that goddamned lower lip of yours and doing unmentionable things to that goddamned cleft in your chin—is freaking child’s play.”
She parts her lips but doesn’t speak.
“Do I give off a Jeffrey Dahmer vibe or something?” I ask, leaning forward into her personal space.
“Not at all.” She leans back and sips her drink. “Maybe that’s why I’m so damned curious. Your seeming normalcy makes me wonder even more why a guy like you felt the need to join a sex club.”
“I didn’tneedto join a sex club—any more than Ineedto go to Tahiti or Monaco.”
“Or Disneyland,” she adds, snickering.
I roll my eyes. “Or Disneyland. Correct. Joining The Club was avacation.” I sip my drink calmly. “Which means it’s soundly in the realm of ‘none of your fucking business.’ I don’t owe you a play-by-play of my vacations. And, news flash, I’m not gonna let you run my credit report or call my ex-girlfriends, either.”
She takes another long sip of her drink. “Oh, that’s a great idea about calling your ex-girlfriends, Playboy. I didn’t think of that. You can email me their contact information along with your application.”
I smirk. “You do realize, in theory, you could wake up gagged and chained to a donkey after fucking any guy, right? The fact that I joined The Club doesn’t make me any more or less of a pervert-weirdo-serial-killer-donkey-fucker than the average guy.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll know for sure after I read your application. And by the way, I didn’t say anything about waking upgagged.You just added that part.” She raises one of her eyebrows at me.
I feel my cheeks blazing, despite my best efforts to keep a neutral face.
“Sarah sure enjoyed reading Jonas’ application,” she says. “Maybe I’ll like yours as much as she liked his.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about. Jonas and Sarah.”
She shrugs, but her body language tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head.
“But Jonas didn’twillinglygive Sarah his application, you might recall—he sent it to an anonymous intake agent. If Jonas had met Sarah in real life the way I’ve met you, he never would have given her his fucking application, not in a million years, I guarantee it. Sarah only had it because Jonas had no choice in the matter—and she misappropriated it for her personal use.” I sip my drink slowly. “Shame on her.”
“But that’s my whole point. Jonas wouldn’t normally have given it to her—and yet that’s exactly why they clicked so hard and fast. All cards on the table. Nothing to hide. No way to hold back, even if they wanted to. I think there’s something to that kind of forced honesty.”
Oh, she’s good, but I’m not gonna fall for her manipulations. “Sure you wanna try it—it’s a one-way street. No downside for you.”
We sip our drinks again, eying each other.
“Yeah, but most likely ahugeupside for you,” she says. “Think about it like that.”
She makes an excellent point, I must admit. But I’d never tell her that. “Did Sarah show you Jonas’ application, by any chance?” I ask.
“No. She wouldn’t even summarize it verbally for me. And she wouldn’t tell me what she wrote to him in response, either.”
“Yeah, neither would Jonas. Not a word.”
