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“Hello, I’m starting now. All those dirty stories I’ve told you about Cory? It’s not all I’ve let him do. Or all that he’s let me do. Five words: tied up in the barn. Now it’s your turn.” Vic’s wicked eye-glint made Jill lean forward, waiting for the next part of the story, until she remembered she was the one in the storytelling hot-seat tonight. “Besides,” Vic said. “You’re making me worry more the longer you refuse to tell me. Especially now that I know he’s a little bit wicked.” She offered the water. “Did you get down and dirty with a criminal on the lam or something?”
Jill accepted the bottle and laughed. “He’s not a criminal, on the lam or otherwise.”
“Is he married?”
“God, no.”
“Really bad for you?”
“That last one,” Jill admitted, though she didn’t truly believe it. Maybe Bryan was all wrong for her on paper, but he made her feel so good, in bed and out. They laughed together. He challenged her…even when he was pissing her off.
Vic nodded sagely. “Been there. Sucks that they’re always the ones who roll your eyes back and twist your toes out of joint.”
“Like you remember anything about that,” Jill teased.
“I live it. Who do you think is more wrong for me than Cory? He starches his boxers, for God’s sake. That’s not even a euphemism.”
“If this sob story ends with you telling me about the amount of orgasms you had this weekend, we’re going to have words, Townsend.”
Vicky waggled her brows. “I never brag. Evidently neither do you since I have heard not one thing. C’mon. I love bad boys.”
“For me? Since when?” Jill took a long swig.
“So I tend to be a little overprotective. Duly noted. But as I just indicated a few moments ago, I can change my ways. I’m trying to relax. You’re entitled to make your own choices. I just worry.”
?
??I know, and I love you for it.” Jill returned the bottle and wiped her mouth. This might be the most awkward conversation in the history of life. How was she supposed to talk about Vic’s brother’s dick with her? Even if she avoided his name and that part of his anatomy entirely, it didn’t matter. She still knew. Maybe she could steer them toward safer territory and not arouse suspicions. “He’s got nice hands.”
Vic nearly spit out her mouthful of water. “That’s what you give me?”
“Umm, he knows how to use them, too.”
“How much using are we talking here? Multiples?”
“Multiple multiples.” She ducked her head at Vic’s war whoop. “There might have been some tongue action, too.”
“There damn well better have been. A bad boy who doesn’t willingly go down is like a unicorn without a horn. Not worth the fairytale.” Vic leaned forward eagerly. “C’mon, gimme more.”
Jill laughed. “Let’s just say he has the right equipment, and he knows how to use it. He was kind of freaked about the virgin thing, and the first time was kind of fast, but then…” She took a shuddery breath. “Then it got really good. He was so sweet about making sure I enjoyed myself. He even—”
“What? What?”
“Jeez, don’t hyperventilate.” Jill grinned. “He even stuck around all night. I expected him to hit the door running, but nope, he was there the next morning.” Smelling like her soap, clutching her pink lady razor, and still somehow seeming like one-thousand-percent man.
“Hot damn. I like this guy already. I don’t suppose you want to tell me more about him? Like, oh, a name perhaps?”
“I will soon. But—”
“But you want it to be your secret for right now. Okay.” Vic sighed. “As part of that whole ‘trusting you to make your own decisions’ thing, I won’t press you for more info right now. Though it’s taking a lot of willpower on my part, so I think I deserve extra best friend bonus points.”
Jill smiled. “Duly noted. And thanks.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes. I think so.” Jill fiddled with the end of one of her ponytails. “He’s not like how I thought he would be.” Epic understatement. She’d been so sure she knew Bryan Townsend. Between the stuff Vic had told her, what she’d read in the tabloids, and her own observations, she’d been certain she had him pegged. But from the way he’d insisted on them seeing each other while he was in town, making love to her so tenderly—
Cripes, they’d had sex. Screwed. Banged. Not made love. She was doing the girl thing and romanticizing it. Ex-virgin problems, obviously.
