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Riggs turned back to me. “What?”
“I want to take you up on your offer.”
“Whatoffer?”
“To watch porn together.”
He scowled. “When did I offer that?”
“On the subway.” I smiled sunnily. “That night when we dined and dashed, remember?”
The night he’d stood up for me. The memory made my spine tingle.
Riggs swiped his tongue along his bottom lip. His throat bobbed. I could tell he was struggling to make a decision.
“I’m not going to regret it,” I lamented. “I’m even willing to sign a declaration.Andlaminate it.”
Finally, a reluctant smirk tugged at his perfect lips. “You need help.”
“Help me, then!” I opened my arms. “Help me discover my sexuality. BJ was terrible in bed, Riggs. Terrible. He humped me like a dog, then flopped over before I was even done. And I swear he couldn’t find my clit with a map, a search party, and if there was a huge neon sign attached to it.”
It felt lovely saying this aloud. It might have been uncharitable and petty, but it was also something else: the truth.
“What’s your plan?” He arched an eyebrow. He had nice, thick eyebrows. I wanted to run my fingers over them.
“To screw BJ out of my system,” I announced, then added, “but I get that you don’t want to take advantage of me. So that’s why I’m willing to watch porn with you, which is technically not touching each other, and therefore not exploiting.”
“No touching,” he warned.
“None whatsoever.” I lifted two fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever in the Scouts?” He eyed me skeptically.
“No,” I confessed. “I was too busy studying, honing my fake accent, and filling lottery tickets.”
We both laughed.
Even though I was plastered, I did recognize the truth for what it was—I’d been attracted to Riggs from the get-go, and I wasn’t going to regret the decision to sleep with him, if he was willing to go there.
I waited with bated breath for his verdict.
Finally, he picked up his phone from the coffee table between us. “Grab your laptop. I’m going to rock your world, Poppins.”
Half an hour later, we were sitting on the settee with my laptop on Riggs’s lap, balanced on his mammoth erection, watchingThrobbing Hood.
As far as the plot went,Throbbing Hooddid not have one. But Throbbing, the hero, was a very prolific thief, in a sense that he’d already stolen four women from their husbands and given them all orgasms.
At the same time, naturally. Which meant he had to get creative with his toes.
Personally, I couldn’t really get the fascination. Sure, Throbbing’s willy looked like a pool noodle, but everything was so manufactured. All the moans and the groans, the perfect silicone tits, and the orchestrated orgasms. No rare acting talent had been wasted on this body of work. I could tell every single participant only did this for the paycheck.
Which was how I found myself yawning halfway through the thirty-minute movie, checking the time and wondering how many viruses were currently leeching into my laptop from the porno website.
Riggs, who didn’t seem too into it, either, and in fact didn’t seem to have breathed for the last half hour, turned to look at me.
“Not your thing?”
I shrugged. “You really hyped it up. I thought there would be ... more.”
