Page 65 of The Toy Collector

Lena’s eyes go wide, then narrow with suspicion. “And you weren’t going to tell me? Your best friend? The keeper of all your secrets? The woman who held your hair back when you puked after drinking too much tequila, and—”

Laughter bubbles up my throat and out of my mouth. “Okay, okay, drama queen.” Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself. “It’s new, and complicated.” An understatement so severe it might qualify as perjury.

“New and complicated.” She nods sagely. “So like, what? Married? Your professor? Ooh, is it that TA from your Political Theory class? The one with the forearms?”

I snort at the way she describes my TA. I mean, everyone has forearms, so it’s a ridiculous description. “No, none of those. Just... someone I wasn’t expecting.”

“Piper Harrington!” Lena almost shouts. “Do not play coy with me here. I want the deets, and I want them now.”

Smirking, I lean back in the chair and slowly cross one leg over the other. “Okay,” I relent. “His name is Enzo, and he’s… I don’t even know how to describe him.”

“Do I know him? Where did you meet? How did you meet? When do I get to meet him?” The questions come in rapid-fire.

“Calm down,” I laugh. “No, you don’t know him. I met him when I interviewed at Blackwood for my internship, and… umm… he was one of the men interviewing me.”

Hurt flickers across Lena’s features. “You’ve known him that long and I’m only just finding out…” Trailing off, she frowns. “Wait a damn second. Is he the secret you mentioned just before Halloween?”

My breath saws out of me, and I reach for her hand, holding it between both of mine. “Hey, I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how.” Biting my bottom lip, I deliberate how to best explain it. “I… well, the fact we met during the interview made me feel like I earned my internship the wrong way. That’s why I didn’t say anything at first.”

It’s not the complete truth, but it’s close enough that I don’t feel like I’m lying.

“Ohh!” Lena squeals. “That totally makes sense. Okay, I forgive you. But only if you tell me everything right now.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How’s the sex?” she asks, unashamedly waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

The urge to deny having sex is on the tip of my tongue. But the memory of Enzo spanking me for saying I wasn’t sexually active comes to mind. God, wrong as it was, I fucking loved it. My thighs press together under the table.

“It’s…” I search for a word that won’t give too much away. “Intense.”

“Intense.” Lena repeats the word like she’s tasting it. “Intense like romantic candles and deep conversations? Or intense like he’s rearranging your organs?”

I almost choke on my coffee. “The second one.”

She squeals again, this time it’s loud enough that the elderly couple glance our way. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. You have that glow. That ‘I’ve been thoroughly fucked’ glow.”

“Can you lower your voice?” But I’m laughing too, the relief of sharing even this small part of my secret lightening something in my chest. “And if you must know, we haven’t actually fucked.”

This makes her pause, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her brain as she just stares at me, uncomprehending. “You haven’t? But why not?”

Images flash through my mind; his cigar between my legs, tie around my eyes, his palm striking my ass. I feel my cheeks flush.

“We’re exploring,” I admit. “He’s showing me things I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Lena’s eyes light up. “Oh my God, he’s kinky. All the best ones are.” She leans forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You should make a list.”

“A list?”

“A kink list. Things you want to try, things you’re curious about, things that are absolute no-gos.” She shrugs. “I did it with Derek last year. It was actually super helpful. Got us talking about stuff we’d never have brought up otherwise.”

“I don’t think we need a list.” I think of the way Enzo seems to read my mind, how he knows what I want before I do. How he pushes me past what I think I can handle, into territory I never knew existed.

“Everyone needs a list,” Lena insists. “It’s like sexual homework. But the fun kind.”

I laugh, imagining Enzo’s face if I presented him with a list. Would he be amused? Intrigued? Would he punish me for being so presumptuous? He’d probably read every line without blinking—and then make me prove it. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“Fine, maybe I’ll think about it.” I take another bite of pie. “But I’m not showing you what’s on it.”

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