“Thanks, Clive. This is perfect,” Archer interrupts, and he grabs the entire basket and closes the door, flipping the deadbolt and the swing lock for good measure to prove it’s fine for me to go ahead and strip naked now.
This guy cracks me up. He carries the basket over to me, and it’s definitely packed full of…well,personal items.
Condoms of all shapes, sizes, types, and flavors. There must be twenty of them in there. A sampling of different lubricants, one flavored, one that’s warming. A few different types of massage oils. And then there are the toys—all in brand-new packaging. A vibrating cock ring. A blindfold and silk ties. A bullet vibrator. Something that looks like a giant ruby red ring. I pick that one up and glance up at Archer with a clear question in the quirk of my brows.
“Butt plug,” he says.
Why my pussy literally clenches at the thought of that, I may never know. Or maybe we’ll plow through this assortment in one night. A girl can hope—except for the twenty condoms. That might be excessive for one night.
“Do you…uh—” I begin, not sure where I’m going with this.
“Use toys?” he supplies.
“Well, yeah.”
“I mean, when you’ve got the right equipment, you don’tneedthem,” he says, and he sets his hand over his cock and pulls up with a smirk on his face. “But I’ve found they can also enhance the fun. You?”
“I haven’t.”
“Mind if I ask how many men you’ve been with?” he asks quietly.
“Two. Is that important to you?”
“No.” He presses his lips together. “But you’ve got me beat.”
My brows might fly off my forehead at that admission. “Really?”
“I was in a long-term relationship with the same person since college, but I knew her for years before we got together—I guess I was just too busy to make my move earlier.”
“And before that?” I ask.
“I was focused on sports and studies.” He shrugs.
Right. He doesn’t know I know he’s a professional baseball player, but I imagine the love of the game started young. I’d venture to guess that it’s pretty much his entire life, and he hasn’t had much time for cultivating new relationships.
“When did that end?”
“Five months ago.”
“And you haven’t been with anybody since?” I ask, shock settling over me.
“I haven’t wanted to be with anybody until a gorgeous woman slid into my booth for four for one earlier this evening.”
My heart melts a little at that. It might just be a line, but even if it is, I don’t care. It works.
I take the basket from his hands, rifle through the condoms, and choose two ultra-thin ones. I hold them up. “XL?” I ask a little overly hopefully.
He chuckles, but he does grab the XL from my fingertips.
“Thank you, Lord,” I mutter. I set the regular-sized one back in the basket, and I grab a bottle of lube, too—I’m probably as wet as the pool downstairs, but if he wants to give that ruby plug a try, who am I to say no? I pick that up too with a shrug. “Just in case.”
He chuckles, and he sets the items in my hands on the coffee table. I guess we’re doing this right here.
Instead of kissing me this time, he reaches for my shirt, pulls it over my head, and tosses it to the floor. He flicks the strap of my bra, and if he’s not some sort of sex expert, he’s got me fooled.
I reach for his shirt, too, and when I pull it off, I’m met with abs that are carved out of heaven and perfection.
Holy hell. This man is freakingstacked.
