Page 28 of The Heart You Kept

“In some things.” He stares out over the rolling green hills as we walk. “What makes you ask that?”

“Your accent. The way you sound.”

“My accent?” He smiles as if fascinated. “How do I sound?”

“Like an English nobleman or something.”

He chuckles. “How many English noblemen do you know?”

“Well, none.” I giggle. “I was confused because I’m pretty sure that English noblemen don’t know how to fuck like that.”

He throws his head back and laughs out loud.

“I’m being serious.” I smile up at him. “I think maybe you’re a porn star or something. I’ve never met anyone before who has sex like you.”

“Sex like me, what is sex like me?” He smiles.

“So….” I widen my eyes. “Great.”

“Great.” He repeats the word. “I don’t like the word great.” He scrunches up his nose. “Great sounds very average to me.”

“You are anything but average.” I laugh. “Believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep digging.” He smiles as he walks. “This hole is deep, Doe.”

I laugh and think for a moment. “Okay, great isn’t the best word. I would describe our sex last night as…” I narrow my eyes as I try to articulate myself, “…life changing.”

“Life changing?” He stops, pulling me back by the arm. “How was it life-changing?”

“Well….” I think for a moment. “I’m pretty vanilla on the outside.”

“You are not vanilla.” He cuts me off.

“No, I am.” I smile as I pull him to walk once more. “I’ve only ever had two boyfriends and…I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

He stares down at me. “How many people have you slept with?”

“Four.” I shrug. “Well, five now.” I continue to babble on, “Well, six if you count that one time I had a threesome.”

He chuckles. “The one you didn’t like to share the dick in?”

“Yes.” I smile goofily. “That one.” I glance back and see two men walking in the distance behind us. “Who are those men?” I ask. “Are they following us?”

He glances back. “Oh…. They’re from the resort. It’s standard for them to send someone with a client if they leave the hotel.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “In case I’m a serial killer or something.”

My arm is linked through his and I can feel his hard forearm under my hand. “How many people have you slept with?” I ask him.

“A lot,” he replies without hesitation.

“Oh.” I nod. I hate that answer, he’s probably slept with the most beautiful of people.

Insecurity rears her ugly head, what would he ever see in someone like me?

Then I remember the cold hard facts.

He didn’t choose me; he was matched with me. I was just the lucky number that got pulled out of a hat.

We walk for a while as my brain goes into a silent confidence crisis.