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Dylan blinked at me. “I have absolutely no bloody idea what you just said. It just sounded like blah, blah, blah, blah, bloody blah.”
I sipped my drink. “Well, now you know how I feel in this bar. Blah blah blah touchdown, blah blah blah goal, blah blah blah red card.”
“None of that has been said since we stepped foot in this bar.”
“Fine, it’s how I feel when you watch the ENSP news.”
“ESPN.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said ENSP.”
“Right. ESPN.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and once again shook his head while I grinned. “I have no idea how I put up with you.”
“I buy you imported teabags when your parcels are held up at customs.”
“You do?”
“You’ve never noticed how your little tea box thing fills back up with the GP Tips?”
His lips twitched. “It’s PG Tips.”
“I don’t really care. I look for the box with the monkey and ask for the triangles. That’s all I know.” I shrug. “You without tea is like me without coffee. Nobody needs that in their life.”
“You really do that?”
“Yeah, there’s a British grocery store in the city that ships. It’s like one-ninety-nine shipping for a box of twenty. I have a few boxes stashed under my bed.”
“And you’re admitting this?”
“You’re buying me dinner. I’ve also been waiting to tell you this so I can use it to blackmail you.”
He choked back a laugh. “Her real motives come out.”
I raised my glass. “I can’t have anyone thinking I’m a nice and generous person. I’ve worked for twenty-six years to ensure everyone knows I’m an asshole. I’m not having that undone by some freaking Brit and his goddamn teabags.”
Dylan grinned. “You know I’m stealing those teabags next time I need some.”
“No. If you go in my room, I’ll beat you with my vibrator.”
He stilled. “Not the worst thing that’s been threatened with a vibrator. Also, not a secret that you have one.”
“I have three,” I replied. “And how do you know?”
His lips pulled to one side and he leaned in, that smirk making his eyes flash with amusement. “How should I put this? You’re not exactly… quiet.”
My cheeks flamed.
Oops.
I drained my drink and pushed the stool back so I was standing. “I, uh—I think this is a good time to use the bathroom.”
Dylan nodded, still smirking.
And I ran.
Sadly, not in the way of the door to the bar which was where I really, really wanted to be.
Welp.
There went my orgasms.
CHAPTER EIGHT – DYLAN
RULE EIGHT: DIRTY TALK WORKS. AS LONG AS IT’S NOT YOUR INSANELY SEXY ROOMMATE YOU’RE DIRTY TALKING WITH.
The blush that had colored her cheeks when I mentioned I’d heard her using her vibrator was fierce. In fact, her entire face had turned bright red and I’d literally felt the shock and embarrassment roll off her.
That hadn’t been my intention at all.
I didn’t want to embarrass her. I wanted her to feel comfortable and safe with me—heck, we did live together after all.
On the other hand, it was hilarious when she blushed.
Saylor portrayed herself as this untouchable person who wasn’t bothered by anything, but I knew otherwise.
I also had an incorrigible desire to pull her out of the shell she had herself wrapped up in. It was nothing more than a defense mechanism, and after hearing about her awful dating history, I got it.
It made sense.
Saylor kept herself closed off, wrapped up in a little bubble, and she only let in those who’d earnt her trust.
I wanted to be one of those people.
I knew I was one of those people. I just liked teasing her.
I also knew it was dangerous. There was something about her—a magnetism that drew me in, and even though I knew it was a terrible idea to play with this fire, I couldn’t help myself.
Couldn’t help but mess with her. Tease her. Toy with her. Push the limits of her boundaries in the hope they’d come crashing down.
Flirt with the cute waitress just because I knew it bothered her.
The moment she’d come over, Saylor had gotten that look in her eye that said she was on the defensive, and she’d stiffened every single time she’d come over.
I couldn’t even remember her name.
Which was weird, considering she’d jutted her chest in my direction at least four times.
“Did you know there’s a guy over near the bar who keeps looking at you?”
Saylor blinked at me. “There is?”
“Yeah, the one in the green t-shirt. He’s been eyeing you up the entire time.” My lips tugged to the side. “Maybe I can teach you something here after all.”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Are you sure he’s interested? Why hasn’t he spoken to me if he is?”
“He probably thinks we’re on a date, Say.”
Her mouth popped into an ‘o’ shape. “Right. So what do I do?”
“Just walk up to him, say hi, and talk to him. Smile, be nice, don’t look like he’s pissed you off just by being in the same room as him.”
