Page 71 of Tangled Kisses
But Griffin isn’t like the men in my past. And I don’t think this is some quest to rack up a string of satisfied women. He’s going to demand I tell him every detail.
“Not happening. Now”—he dips his head until his cheek brushes the side of mine—“what the hell happened?”
“Are we really going to talk about this?”
“Looks that way.”
Another swallow of whiskey burns down my throat, and I break from his grasp, fixing him with a dark stare. “Men are pigs, right? I know this fact.Youknow this fact.”
He snorts. “An insult to pigs everywhere.”
“Well, sometimes locker room talk doesn’t stay in the locker room. I was dating this guy when I worked at the hospital, and one night I went to his place. He was out back with a friend, didn’t know I could hear him. Called me frigid. Said I was a lousy lay.”
Griffin’s jaw tightens.
“I confronted him later, and he just shrugged it off. Said ithadto be me, because he’d pleasured every other woman he’d ever been with.” A bitter laugh claws my throat. “And the worst part is, he wasn’t wrong.”
“Yes, he was.”
I shake my head and focus on tearing the cocktail napkin into bite-sized pieces. “It was mortifying to hear said aloud, but he wasn’t the first guy I couldn’t get there with.”
“Men like that should be banned from touching women. Hell, from breathing the same air as them.”
I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “That’s all well and good, but the fact is…” I press my lips together, then huff out a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my vibrator’s been the only way I’ve ever been able to come. So, it’s probably me. I’m defective or some such shit.”
His eyes flash, the storm from earlier returning for a second round.
But I’m not ready for him to speak.
In fact, I need this little chat to end.Now.
Way to take a hot moment with a local sex god and turn it into a therapy session. Griffin probably wishes he’d taken his client up on her offer now.
“Since I’ve completely ruined the moment, want to grab a cheeseburger? And maybe an entire bottle of whiskey I can down alone in the corner?”
“It’s not you,” he says, his voice low and certain. “When it’s done right, you’ll come so hard you won’t be able to think. All because of me and my tongue.”
A shiver shoots through me, invading every cell. God help me, I’m more turned on by the sound of him promising it than I’ve ever been from a man actually touching me. My pulse skitters, and before I realize it, my fingers have drifted to the base of my throat, sliding down over my collarbone toward the dip of my cleavage.
His eyes follow the movement, a slow slide that leaves me hyperaware of exactly where my hand rests. But he keeps going. “A real man wouldn’t justdoit—he’d take pride in it.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. What man wouldn’t want to blow his woman apart like that?”
“Most men. At least the ones I’ve known. Doesn’t matter, anyway. I’d never be able to relax enough, regardless. Maybe I don’t taste good or—God, I don’t know—maybe?—”
“They’re incompetent,” he cuts in. “There’s no way you taste like anything other than heaven.”
Is there anything more mortifying than admitting your sexual shortcomings to a man who’s considered a sexual legend?
Nope, I don’t think there is.
I take the last swallow from my glass and point toward the bar. “What do you want? My treat.”
“Really?” He crooks his finger at me. “Perfect. Come here.”
I gaze around the dimly lit bar, fully aware of how secluded we are in this back corner. “What?”
