Page 3 of Master Debater

He returned his attention to the boxes, and if my eyes had the ability to pop right out of their sockets, they would’ve.

“No, stop!” I cleared the last couple steps in a single bound, desperately attempting to derail the oncoming train wreck of embarrassment. My dishes were likely shattered into a million pieces, but that was nothing compared to the overturned box that’d ejected my collection of sex toys.

They littered the sidewalk, on display for the world to see, although I was mostly worried about my new, smokin’ hot neighbor.

My knees hit the sidewalk, the cement biting into my skin, and I threw myself over every piece I could. I managed to cover the Don Juan Wand, the womanizer I might be able to play off as a mini stapler, and the kitty clitty stimulator.

But the glittery, crescent moon tipped dildo lay beyond my reach, lit up like a glowstick at a rave. Bright side, the glass hadn’t broken; downside, the rugged dude who lived next door was lifting it to study it.

I snatched it away, tucking everything I’d managed to cover with my body in tighter, undeterred by the extra scraping of my skin. Then I righted the box, tossed the items inside, and closed the flaps as quickly as possible.

Scanning the ground like a maniac, I sought the last one. Leah had joked that since I hadn’t cut off my husband’s dick like she’d suggested, she had sent me another, better one.

“Looking for this?” My new neighbor lifted the veiny dildo that had been labeled with a neon note that read: Finally, a claim of nine inches you can believe.

It was so overly graphic, with giant balls and a pump that could be filled with warm water for those who wanted, um, squirting to add more realism. Something I figured I’d pass on, although I wasn’t going to judge.

The guy across from me, on the other hand? His stony expression made it difficult to gauge any judgment, but oh, God, why did he have to find the most phallic, over-the-top one?

So much for my fresh start. I’d semi-met one person in Boston, and I was going to have to spend the rest of my life dodging him.

Chapter 2

Willa

No big deal. It wasn’t like we lived in the same freaking building or anything.

A sound between a whimper and a yelp escaped my lips, and I nearly followed it up by telling him he could keep it. He cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything, and my face burned with the fire of a thousand suns as I took the proffered dildo and jammed it into the box with the rest of my erotic toolkit.

Embarrassing waves of heat continued to crest and crash, and I was fairly certain I was about to discover whether self-combustion was a real thing. “Look, I know it seems like a lot, but lately I’ve had trouble, um…”

Was I seriously explaining? Good one, Willa. Tell him how desperate you are for an orgasm and ask if he’d like to volunteer as tribute. “Never mind,” I said, shaking my head and blushing from my roots to my toes. I muttered a weak “thank you” before righting the other box nearest me.

The rattling from within relayed the contents were in shards, same as my ego, and I hadn’t even had much of one in the first place.

“Here, let me,” he said, taking the box of shattered tableware from me. “Least I can do after making you drop everything is help you carry it all inside.” After pushing to his feet and tucking the box under his arm as though it didn’t weigh a thing, he extended a hand my way.

I winced as my scraped palm hit his and allowed him to pull me to my feet. Doing my best to help so he wouldn’t have to bear my full weight, I overcompensated and ended up knocking into him for the second time. My hands automatically wrapped around his firm biceps, and I told the whirl of unfurling desire to calm down.

“Thanks again,” I breathed more than said, and the inhale that followed allowed me a whiff of his cologne. It held notes of leather and rum, leaving me unsure if I’d chosen drinking him in or riding him.

Riding, my entire body screamed. Definitely riding.

Before the inappropriate thought led to further humiliation, I quickly released his arms and bent to retrieve the box I was absolutely not allowing him to carry inside. I placed a hand over the cardboard flaps, as though that would undo the fact he’d seen the contents.

As soon as we stepped inside, I told him he could set the box on the table or kitchen counter. The second his back was to me, I deposited the sexy-times goods on the far side of the gray couch.

Then I darted toward the archway that separated two rooms, as though I was the sneakiest spy in the universe. He turned to fully face me, and the oxygen sputtered from my lungs. Outside, I’d recognized he was the sort of good-looking only found in magazines. The way the overhead lights played across his features only emphasized just how panty-meltingly hot he truly was.

“Sorry again,” he said. “I’ll pay to replace your dishes, along with anything else I broke. Full disclosure, though…” One corner of his lips kicked up, the cocky debonair slant provoking foolhardy butterflies to stir in my cut. “I might insist on a detailed inventory.”

I pressed my lips together, fighting off a smile, and losing the battle in the end. “Oh? And how are you so sure those are dishes?”

He placed his large hand atop the box on the table and pivoted it so I could see the black Sharpie letters scribbled across the cardboard. “You wrote on it. So, unless you mislabeled it to conceal the fact that it’s actually more glass di?—”

I lunged forward and slapped a hand over his mouth, his teasing making me bolder than I meant to be. Then again, it could just be desperation for him to not address the giant elephant in the room. Or the giant trunk of a fake cock he’d seen, as it were.

His muffled laugh came from behind my palm. “What? I was going to say decanters. You look like someone who collects wine decanters.”

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