Page 162 of Hide and Keep

Neither of us moves, both our breathing labored, his on the back of my neck, mine on the crook of his elbow.

It’s not just him I do that with. I don’t even think I keep my eyes open during any form of intimacy. Either they’re shut or I’m looking around at stuff, wishing they were. It’s weird that Crue’s so obsessed with keeping eye contact.

Hot, but weird.

“How many inches are we talking?”

“Four?”

“Four?”

“Could be seven. Nine. I don’t know. I’ve never fucking measured.”

“Hmm.” I rub my lips together, picturing the difference between four and nine inches. I think the norm is three to eight. Judging by what I felt at Hide and Keep, I’d guess eight or nine—hard. There’s no way it’s bigger than that because how could he honestly come up with four if it was? Ten inches or more is crazy. That’s a golf club dangling between your legs. It’s not even carry-on, it’s checked baggage at that point. Having to stuff something that size into a pair of pants every day—even soft—you would know what you’re working with.

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, no, nothing. That’s just…a pretty big acorn.”

“It’s not a fucking acorn.”

“Hey, no judgement. I’m just glad I solved the mystery.”

“What mystery is that?”

“Why you’re always so grumpy.”

A burst of air pelts my neck and ear, causing a shiver.

“You’re why I’m always so grumpy. You and your little fucking attitude and your little fucking outfits.”

“You don’t like my outfits?”

The weight on me shifts, easing a bit.

“I didn’t say that.”

I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t.

Okay…

“So…is this another pin?”

“Are your shoulder blades touching the floor?”

“No?”

“They’re not,” he deadpans.

“I’m gonna get out of this?”

“Hopefully.”

“You said I could.”

“I said there are more ways to get out of this position…if you know how to execute them.”

My eyebrows almost crash into each other.

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