Page 7 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

I know a thing or two about wanting to forget. I’ve been doing it for over half my life. But this isn’t about me. “So what did you expect to happen when you kissed me?”

“I don’t know. I was being impulsive. Act first. Think later. At the moment, I wanted to make Pax jealous. Give him a tiny sliver of the hurt he gave me.” She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “And I knew he was watching. Kissing you would achieve that.”

“His name is Pax? He already sounds like a douche.”

A laugh escapes her. It’s soft and infectious. I’d spend the rest of the night listening to her if I got more of that sporadic laugh from her.

“He had to live up to his name.”

“So, back to this kiss. You were using me?”

She shakes her head back and forth. “I mean, technically, yes. But I also enjoyed it. A lot. And kind of wanted more.”

“It was a good kiss.”

She bites her lips together. “It was an excellent kiss.” She uncrosses her legs, stretches them out toward the top of the bed, and leans back on her hands. “I wanted to feel something besides hurt and betrayal.”

My gaze drifts down to her sparkly pink polish on her toes. When did feet become sexy? “And sleeping with me would do that?”

“I was hoping it would give me five minutes to get out of my head.”

I flinch. “Ouch.”

She sits up. Concern etches her features. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m hurt by you thinking I’d only last five minutes.”

She grabs a pillow by her feet and throws it at me. It cartwheels through the air before I catch it, stopping it from smacking me in the face.

“I’ll have you know I would have given you the best ten minutes of your life.” I tuck the pillow behind me.

She giggles. It’s the sound angels make. “A whole ten minutes.” She gasps sarcastically and clutches her chest. “What would I do with all those minutes?”

“It’s more than the five minutes you gave me credit for. Based on your moans and whimpers, you would have enjoyed those ten minutes.”

She raises a brow. “How do you know I wasn’t faking it?”

“I doubt you were faking. No one is that good at acting.”

She straightens her shoulders. “Want to bet? Oh! Uh. Yes.” She tips her head back as her lips spread. “Oh. Oh. Yes. Right there. Patrick. Yes. Yes. Mmm, yes.” She blows out a sigh before tilting her head forward. A smile tugs at her lips.

I shift on the bed, trying as discreetly as possible to adjust myself. I raise my hands and give her a slow clap.

She crosses her arm over her stomach and bows. “Thank you.”

“I take my words back. With that performance, you could be an actress.”

“You think so?” She rests a hand on her waist and lifts her chin, posing for the pretend cameras. Then a giggle escapes her, and she drops her hand to the comforter. “I never had dreams to be on the big screen. Plus, I think faking orgasms falls more in line with porn star than Hollywood actress.”

“Or you could do that.”

“But that’s a lot of sex.”

“And a lot of dicks.”

“While I like both,” she presses her lips together, “I feel like that would be overconsumption.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

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