Page 14 of Impromptu Match

Don’t Get Drunk and Tell a Stranger All Your Secrets

“I don’t know what synergy means,” I blurted, a little frisson of exhilaration fluttering through my stomach at the admission.

Holt just snorted and waved his glass. “Who does? You can do better than that. Tell me about douchebag Marcus and his blogger boyfriend. Say all the shit you know you shouldn’t say to friends and family about them.”

Oh god. Was this what therapy was like? I clutched my glass of rum and took a big gulp for courage, then licked my lips nervously.

“Okay. Um, so… Marcus makes this, um”—god, I felt like such a shithead for saying this—“really weird noise when he comes.”

Holt’s eerie pink eyes immediately brightened. “What kind of noise?”

“Kind of like…” I attempted to emulate the sound, which had been something between a chicken squawk and a dog whimpering.

Holt burst out laughing. “Seriously? Every time?”

“Yep, every time. I never, ever mentioned it, obviously. He couldn’t help it. And it’s not like, you know… any of us really pay that much attention to the noise we make when we’re, uh…”

“I guess.” He cocked his head. “I wonder what I sound like when I come. I know it isn’t like that, at least. Thank fuck.”

Heat flooded my face as I got a very vivid image of the man in front of me having an orgasm.

“Hey.” Holt snorted. “Now everyone at those orgies gets to hear it.”

“Oh god.” I scrubbed my face. “I feel so guilty for telling you that.”

“Fuck that. He cheated on you. I assume he did, anyway, if he already had hippy blogger Sage lined up when he left you.”

“Yeah,” I said glumly.

“So fuck him and his stupid come noise. And I don’t know him. It’s not like I’m ever gonna see him and say, ‘Taylor told me you sound like a dying chicken when you come, bro.’”

A tiny snort left my mouth. “That’s true.”

“Okay, my turn.” Holt grabbed the decanter and leaned forward to top up my glass, then his own. “I only hired Larkin because I liked the colour of his hair.”

I chuckled. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s a pretty crappy assistant, honestly. But he might get better. Then again, he did bring a human into my office.”

I jolted a little at the word, then let out another dry chuckle. “Right, yeah. Because you’re an emotion-stealing demon creature, right?”

“I don’t steal them. I don’t take them from people. I just… piggyback on them. And demon has negative connotations,” he added primly.

“Sorry.” I flushed and had a sip of rum. “Well… I mean, I guess it was an honest mistake. I am a sad office worker who’d been forced to attend a colleague’s birthday party. I, um, forgot I was wearing the hat. And I didn’t know I had frosting on my face. Sorry.”

Holt just shrugged. “Looked hot.”

The nervous laugh that left me was too loud and slightly hysterical, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe if Lark stopped flirting with all the fucking wrestlers, he’d be better at his job.”

When a knock came at the door, Holt froze with a stricken look on his face.

“Shit,” he whispered. “He might’ve heard me. Come in,” he added in a louder voice.

Larkin opened the door, looked between the two of us in silence for a moment, then said, “The real stripper’s here.”

Before Holt could respond, a short, leanly muscled man wearing nothing but an open shirt, a sparkly pink thong, sock garters and polished black dress shoes sauntered into the room.

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