Page 26 of Two Sticky Nuts

He strolls off, grabbing one of his ten suitcases to take with him.

“You’d so better be worth it, buddy.”

After I find out that carob is a sort of fake, dairy-free chocolate, I get my orders in and start planning out how I want the night to roll. I don’t have a TV, but I have a laptop. We can prop it up on something and watch in the living room after dinner.

He’ll probably make his move and kiss me at that point, so I’ll excuse myself to prepare for this evening of mind-opening sex. I want to meet Mr. Sticky Nuts on his level.

I’m a grown woman and won’t agree to anything I’m uncomfortable with, that’s for sure. But I have to define the yeses and nos ahead of time, since, normally, anything other than regular sex is a no for me.

So how experimental am I willing to get?

A few hours ago, I was ready to kick his ass to the curb, but then he said those magic words. Clearly I haven’t been giving him the chance he deserves if there’s a man inside him who feels those sorts of deep, romantic, spiritual things.

Now I’m more open to some exploration, but not quite at his level. For example, I wouldn’t stuff figs up my crack while people watch. Nor would I slather my vagina in caramel and coat it with sharp chopped nuts.

Whipped cream. I can start there. I’ll just get naked and place some strategic globs over my strategic parts to show him I’m open to his lifestyle. I think—I hope—he’ll appreciate the gesture.

After Carter comes out of the shower, he changes in my room and puts on a pair of gray sweats and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. Not exactly the sexy eveningwear I imagine for a porn star, but maybe that’s the real him. Offscreen, he’s your average guy.

We eat dinner and talk about his dietary journey to veganism after he visited a Tibetan monastery. I try to pay attention, but I’m too busy chewing. And chewing. And chewing. So many veggies in this dish.

After that, we sit down to watch some avant-garde indie film he’s been itching for—some story about a kite.

Toward the middle, he hasn’t made a move, so I try to push things along. I mean, he’ll be wanting to go to his hotel soon, right? Unless I persuade him to stay.

“Wow. Getting late. I’m ready for some dessert. How about you?” I say.

He turns and looks at me. “You’re incredible.” He threads his hand through the hair on the side of my head and kisses me slowly, flicking his tongue against mine. “I was just thinking the same thing. Dessert sounds great.” His voice is deep and sensual.

It’s time.“I’ll be right back.” I get up and grab my can of whipped cream from the fridge before heading off to my bedroom. I strip down and make nice circles around my nipples. Then I make whipped-cream bikini underwear. It won’t last long, but that’s not the point.

I tiptoe into the living room, ready to surprise him.Mr. Sticky Nuts, meet your match!“Dessert is…served?” Carter’s head is tilted back, and he’s snoring.

My mouth falls open.Seriously?

I turn and head to the bathroom to shower off, feeling like a complete idiot. Am I completely misreading this guy?

When I’m done, I go to my room and change into pajamas. Then I go out to the living room, finding Carter in a sleeping bag, stretched out on my couch. It’s not mine, so he must’ve brought it.

“I guess you’re not going to a hotel room,” I mutter. It’s just so strange that he didn’t discuss staying the night. I would’ve said yes, of course. And if we’d hooked up, the invitation would be implied. But he just made himself at home and crashed on my couch.

He’s a couch surfer! Oh no…

Alone, I slide into bed and shake my head at myself. I promised not to be judgmental, but I work so hard for everything, and I have this specific hang-up about slackers.

He’s not a slacker. He’s traveling and staying over.No big deal, right? The irony is I’m more than a little disappointed he fell asleep. He’s supposed to be this famous kink guru, fulfilling women’s fantasies. So while at first I felt uncomfortable about doing new sex things, now I feel bent out of shape because he didn’t want to do them at all.

In any case, I’m going to ask him point-blank tomorrow why he’s really here. Is he into me, or am I just a place to stay in between road trips?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Early the next morning, I wake to the sound of whirring and clanking. Foggy-brained, I stagger out to find a shirtless Carter in the kitchen.Where’d he get a blender?

“Good morning,” I say.

He glances up with those bright blue eyes. “Hey, good morning! Sorry about passing out on you last night. Guess all that jet lag caught up.”

“No problem. What’s all this?” There has to be a dozen shopping bags on the counter.

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