Page 93 of Keeping the Score

“Jesus.”

“I wanted to keep him as a pet. He was young and small. And really cute! But they told me he was going to get huge and also could carry brucellosis or pseudorabies. And that if he got angry, he’d fight like a wild pig, not a domestic pig. It could be dangerous.”

“I know you like animals, but a feral pig…” He shakes his head. “You’re making me nervous.”

I laugh. “You think I’ll expose Tilly to brucellosis?”

“I don’t even know what is.”

“It’s a bacterial infection. It can infect dogs, which was what convinced me to give up the pig.” I pause. “Also,Ididn’t want to get it.”

“Good decision. And no… I don’t think you’d expose Tilly to that. Do you want a dog of your own?”

“I would love it. But pets aren’t allowed in our building.”

“Right.” He nods, lips pursed.

“I tried to tell Trevor I wanted to live somewhere pet-friendly, but he really liked this place, so…” I shrug.

We finish our meal with crème caramel that we share, and then walk leisurely back to the hotel, this time going over to Fifth Avenue. The air is crisp, the city still vibrant and bright.

“How about a drink in the lounge?” Ford says as we enter the hotel. “The Champagne Bar.”

I really want to get up to our room and jump him. I bite my lip and look at him through my eyelashes.

He leans down and murmurs in my ear, “If you keep looking at me like that we’re fucking right on that table over there.”

“Oh.” My belly flip-flops and I blink rapidly at him. “I might let you do that.”

He groans. “Champagne?” He nuzzles my hair. “Or sex. Hell, let’s do both. Come on.”

He leads me to the bar and when we’re seated, orders a bottle of Louis Roederer—what is happening here?

“A whole bottle?” I ask. “We just had a bottle of wine at the restaurant.”

“We can take it up to the room. Have a glass of champagne in the bathtub.”

“Ohhhh, God.” I shift in my seat, my inner muscles tightening low inside me. I press a hand to my chest. “I am dying. Like, I think I’m having a heart attack. I need to compose myself.”

He laughs softly. “I don’t want you to die. I want you to enjoy this.”

“I am enjoying it. So much. I’m just… overwhelmed.”

He kisses me softly. “Good.”

The champagne is bubbly and bright. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

27

FORD

I walk into the bathroom carrying the bottle of champagne and two glasses. Andi’s already stretched out in the tub, her tawny nipples peeking temptingly out of the soap bubbles. Her lips curve seductively.

I’m already half hard and seeing her like that has more blood flowing south.

I pour champagne then climb in to join her, handing her a glass. We sit face to face, legs stretched out, and the hot water sloshes warm and languid around us, steamy and scented with the same fragrance as the massage oil earlier.

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