Page 47 of The Naughty List

“Well, I don’t really have any family left. I’m an only child, my mom passed away when I was ten, and my dad died about seven years ago.”

She gasps and places her hand over mine. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t tell you to garner sympathy. Honestly, it allows me to catch up on work so January is a little less stressful.”

She looks at me with pity in her eyes. “You can’t stay home. I’m serious. You should come with me this year. My family is super nice and outgoing, they’re always happy if more people show up.”

I laugh. “Are they used to you bringing home strays for the holidays?”

“You’re not a stray; and no. Tim is usually there but obviously not this year, so they would love it. Honestly!”

“I’ll think about it, Sadie. I appreciate the offer.” I cover the hand she placed on top of mine with my other hand and we both look down at where we’re joined. I swear I hear her inhale sharply at the sight.

I consider using my hold on her hand to pull her into my lap, briefly fantasizing about what it would be like to explore her delicious lips. But at the last second, she slides her hand away to check the time on her watch.

“Holy shit, we’ve been in here for two hours already.”

I stand up, a little unsteady from the rum, and push the phone button on the elevator to chat with the dispatcher. She assures me both the power company and fire and rescue are working as quickly as they can, but there’s no update on when power will be restored or when someone will be able to come get us out.

“Fuck.” I grab the bottle and take another drink. “Time to get drunk, I guess.”

“Think I already am,” she says, grabbing the bottle from me.

We sit in silence for a bit, passing the bottle back and forth a few more times before she speaks again.

“Can I ask you something super personal?”

When I look over, her expression is serious.

“Sure, I’m an open book.”

“Can guys fake it?”

“Fake—?” I lift one eyebrow, and her eyes dart away from mine, a pink glow inching its way up her neck. “Oh, fake it? As in an orgasm? Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“I think Tim was faking it the last few months we were together.”

“What made you think that?”

“He—uh…” She looks at me.

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen my penis, so as far as I’m concerned, there are no secrets between us.”

“Oh my god.” She clamps her hand over her mouth, her face now beet red. “Oh god, I have.” She buries her face in her hands.

I laugh. “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“No, it wasn’t. You have an amazing pen—it’s huge, it’s—that wasn’t what I meant to say.” We both burst out laughing. She leans against me, her head falling half in my lap like we’re lovers sharing an inside joke.

“Sorry,” she says, sitting back up. “Anyway, what I meant was he never seemed to finish. He’d just like roll off and get up and take a shower.”

My stomach churns at the thought of Tim touching her—of any man touching her. Especially a selfish asshole who clearly didn’t prioritize her physical needs ahead of his own.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She nods. “Did he make sure that you finished first?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

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