Page 14 of Accidental Husband
Okay, fine. "Which is…"
"Caffeine is your main source of pleasure. Whereas I have…" He motions to his crotch.
Gross. "You realize I'm as capable of masturbation as you are?"
He chuckles. "Not talking about masturbation."
I make a show of rolling my eyes, but it's all show. He's right. Jackson and I weren't having sex the last few months. And the sex before that was bad. Really bad. "Yes. Your skill as a lover so transcends mine, that I'm incapable of reaching the heights of bliss that you are." I take another sip. Make a point of moaning as loudly as I can. "This is all I have. Green tea and honey."
"I know," he deadpans. "It's sad. But I can solve that problem."
"Uh-huh."
"You know why single people go to Vegas?"
"To get one of those alcohol filled containers shaped like the Eiffel Tower," I say.
"Yeah, and you know what they do after they get wasted?"
"I don't need your help getting laid."
He shakes his headyou do.
"I thought this was on my terms."
"Our terms." He leans back in his seat. Spreads his legs a few inches. Like he's inviting me to stare at his crotch.
My gaze flits there for a second, yeah, but only because of angles. It's not like I notice how perfectly his jeans fit his hips. And how the denim bulges over his—
Ahem.
"I'm going to show you a good time, Jules." He folds one leg over the other, so his limbs make a four. Which is basically an arrow pointing to his crotch.
Not that I'm looking. "My idea of a good time."
"So we're going to listen to emo music and read YA?"
"Yeah." I fold my arms over my chest. "I'm in the middle of a really great series."
"Bring it." He looks me in the eyes, dead serious. "You can fall asleep to the comfort of your teen fantasies. Hell, you can drag me to your hotel room and play Paramore's entire discography."
"I can?"
He nods. "We'll drive to the sounds of Haley Williams's whine."
"She doesn't whine."
He shoots me anuh-huh, sure. "Whatever you want to call her vocal style."
I want to call it awesome, but I don't need to have this discussion again. "Your friends will agree to my soundtrack?"
"I'll get them to agree." His voice is teasing, but there's nothing funny about this. If Griffin is willing to listen to music he hates for hours—
He really wants me to come. And he really wants me to have fun.
Which is sweet. And completely unacceptable.
I can't handle his expectations. No matter how good his intentions are.
