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“No.” He grinned back at her. “I just happen to like the classics. Just not as classic as you described. That kind of stuff is usually only found in museums.”
Noemi bit down onto her bottom lip and chewed a little. It was a habit that she probably wasn’t aware of, but he’d noticed it twice now and it made his cock twitch both times.
Her dark eyes slowly travelled around the small living room. She took in the leather couch, the throw rug, the modern coffee table and end tables, the few potted plants around the place, the TV in the corner, the black and white art on the walls.
“Your place is nice.” She swallowed hard. “Manly. Just like I thought.”
“I don’t honestly know if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It’s…”
“Do you want those waffles I promised? They’re good. Buttermilk. It’s my secret ingredient.” Thanks Mary Ashley Albernathy, blogger and waffle specialist. He winked at her. “But don’t tell anyone. You know. Since it’s a secret.”
Noemi started at him. “Or else you’ll be forced to torture and kill me?”
“That’s a little extreme. Personally, I just like to cut out the tongue.” She gaped at him and he let out another deep, genuine laugh, which made about twice in the past year that he’d laughed at all and they were both with her, in the span of the last five minutes. “It’s not so secret. You can probably readily find over a thousand recipes online with a click that all call for buttermilk.” I know because I must have gone through at least a hundred of the damn things.
Noemi fidgeted with her dress. She pointed her toe and ground it into the hardwood floor. When she glanced up at him, he could tell that she was a buzzed, like she’d admitted, but she wasn’t that drunk. Her eyes were still focused, even if the pupils were a little blown.
“Actually- I- I’m not very hungry. Not yet. I was hoping- there’s something that you could- I’ve been wondering. I mean, I could use the favor. A win. It’s been a long time and- my last experiences were- god. This is so freaking embarrassing.” She went back to sawing away at her bottom lip and he couldn’t have that. Her lips were far too pretty for her to wreck herself.
If there was going to be damage, he was the one who wanted to cause it. He imagined biting her there and his cock just about ripped through his jeans.
Was she seriously asking what he thought she was asking? Maybe she’d had a few more glasses of wine than he thought.
“I- I was wondering- I mean, I know you’re not a freaking doctor or anything, but I just wanted a second opinion. My ex-”
“Butthole forehead dude?”
“Yeah. That guy…” Noemi’s eyes searched the room wildly, landing anywhere but on him. “He said that- er- that I- had- he said that- that I- that I had an ugly… that my female anatomy was…”
She let out a frustrated sigh and he didn’t interrupt her. What kind of response was there for something as strange as this? He felt like they’d just stepped through a portal into another dimension. He waited, watched while she chewed the hell out of her lip and finally put the rest of it out there while she made a production of studying the floor.
“He said that my lady bits looked like a roast beef sandwich. He said it, as like, some kind of justification for screwing his secretary. It’s been a year and I- it probably sounds so stupid, but I- thought- that’s all I’ve thought about.”
“That why you’re running from this arranged marriage?”
Her head cranked up and her eyes landed on his face. It was a second before she realized he was joking and offered a lopsided, self-depreciating smile. “God. You must think I’m crazy. And no. No, that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re asking me to check and see if- if I think that your lady bits look like something I’d have for lunch?” he asked dryly.
Noemi let out a little gasp, like she wasn’t the one to stand there and start the whole damn conversation. The universe definitely had a sense of humor because this woman standing right in front of him was the one he was supposed to marry. The one who ran from him so she’d never have to be in the same room as him. Never married to him. Never in his bed.
And currently she was asking him to inspect her lady bits.
When she didn’t answer, he decided to fill her in on a little secret. “Sweetheart, let me tell you. Vaginas come in all shapes and sizes and there are few out there, at least based on physical anatomy, that I wouldn’t want to have for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, or any snack in between. So no, I don’t need to look at you to tell you that you’re perfect and that guy was a piece of shit. Gaping asshole, remember? He probably had a two-inch dick too. No offense.”
