Page 36 of Insta Bride

“Absolutely, so be careful.” She’d wriggled her eyebrows but flashed me her beautiful smile. Yep, I needed to dig deep with this one.

“I’d get you a little glass vial and fill it with sand from the beach outside our villa. I’d seal it with a fragment of cork from the bottle of champagne we demolished last night and put it on a platinum chain for you to wear.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to you and me after this is over, but I hope you think back on this as the best time of your life. I want you to remember having fun, having heaps of laughs, a lot of mind-blowing sex—”

“Who with?”

“Funny girl! No, I want you to always be able to wear the chain and remember back to when nothing else mattered but the beach and us.”

“Kye?” She asked, curling back into my arms.

“Hmmm.”

“I would never have guessed you’d give that as a gift. I’m sorry.”

“About?”

“Misjudging you.”

I’d brushed aside her kind words. Yeah, that would be the gift I’d give Elena, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in a relationship around any significant gift-giving occasion.

I should have ended our conversation with talk of Christmas gifts. Instead, I’d decided to take our relationship on a U-turn and fuck it up.

“My turn?” She nodded. “For research purposes only, what’s your wildest sexual experience?”

“Going to a strip club with my girlfriends.”

Knowing our time without cameras was running out, she glossed over getting lap dances by near naked women and betting her friends to take one of the dancers into one of the private rooms.

For a moment, I’d actually believed Elena had a wild side that would give me a run for my money. I’d actually thought nothing I said could faze her.

I was so fucking wrong; my cock might never forgive me.

When she’d asked the next questions, I should’ve thought with my head instead of my heart or dick.

“Have you ever ghosted a woman?”

“I don’t date, so I can’t ghost.”

She pulled up onto one elbow, “Have you ever promised to call, and didn’t? Have you ever said you’d catch up with a woman at a date or time, and didn’t?”

“Yeah, but—”

She cut me off, “How many women have you had sex with? More than fifty?”

“Yes, but—” Hell, I’d slept with more than fifty before the end of my first year at university. Consensual, legal, and not looking for a relationship had been my only criteria. Oh, and I didn’t go looking for women, they found me.

“More than one hundred?”

“Possibly, but—”

“Have you slept with two or more girls at once?”

“Yes, but they weren’t complaining.”

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

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