Page 42 of David

“Girl, you’ve lost your touch. You used to like guys like him.”

“Have you seen the last guy I was with?”

She gestures lazily.

"Yeah, yeah… I remember Klaus.” She takes another drink. “I hated that guy,” she adds, pushing back a hiccup.

My mouth falls open.

“Uh… What?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard that before.”

She finds it so amusing she giggles hysterically.

“To his face. No. I never said it to his face.”

She’s comical, and we both laugh. And now the two men sitting next to us shift in their seats, paying more attention to us.

Exactly what we needed. Their eyes glisten with unsavory thoughts.

They’re tipsy, and we’re tipsy, and that’s the recipe for disaster. Regardless of what Chloe has said about how much good a one-night stand could do to us, the men sitting next to us are bad news.

It’s not like there’s a criminal element to them, although never say never.It’s just that I don’t see myself stuffed under the big guy next to me.

He looks like a football player with his thick neck and wide shoulders. I’ve heard the average weight of a player his size is about two hundred fifty pounds. He’s not sober either. Sex with him would be like getting railed by a freight train.

My delicate, fanciful top would stand no chance to his thick fingers.

Don’t get me wrong, I love massive men.I’ve never had one, but I always wanted one, yet not someone like him.

My knees shake, and he hasn’t even touched me.He probably wouldn’t be able to come on top of me unless he was ready to take me to the emergency room.I’d probably be on all fours the entire night, with him pounding me from behind.

What is wrong with me?

But back to Klaus.

I didn’t know Chloe hated him.

“Why did you hate him? It wasn’t because of his looks.”

“It’s never about their looks.” She rolls her eyes again. “He was not right for you,” she says.

I smile and indulge in a sip of wine.

“No one is right for me these days.”

“Not for what you want in general. But he might be the perfect guy for what you want tonight.”

She slowly tilts her chin toward my neighbor when I realize he’s eavesdropping on our conversation.

Embarrassment rams through me, a deep sense of shame set alight.

“Please don’t listen to her. She has no idea what she’s talking about,” I say to him, and his gaze drops to my hand.

My fingers casually rest on his forearm.

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