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“My brother founded Smut Central.” I hated throwing around that name, or even looking like I was dropping it. Andrew sold a few years back, but the original site had been his brainchild.
Joystick’s mouth formed anO, but no sound came out. And then he barked a laugh. “Fuck me. You thought I was a professional fucker?”
“You looked familiar, and with the body, and the tattoos, and— I’m gonna stop now.”
“Don’t stop on my account. Feel free to keep telling me how I look like I do porn.”
I hid my face. “I think what I should do instead is get back to my hotel.” Stepping out of my comfort zone was a mistake, and now I’d humiliated myself.
“No.” He grabbed my wrist again, and a shock of want raced through me. “Rather, you can if you want, but don’t do it because of that. I’d much rather you thought…” A wince passed over Joystick’s face and vanished in a blink. “If I promise I fuck a lot better than a porn star, will you stay?”
“I’ve never been with a porn star, so I don’t have a bar for what that means.” Oh. My. God. Did I just say that?
He tugged me down the path, further into the park. “I promise it means good things. But if you want, we can forget we ever had this conversation.”
“I’d very much like that.” It couldn’t possibly be so simple. I’d just told him he looked like a guy who had sex on camera for a living, and he not only preferred that to the truth, but was willing to pretend I hadn’t said it.
What kind of guy did both?
“These over here are one of my favorites.” Joystick led us toward some orange flowers that looked like tiny, heart-shaped balloons. “Someone told me they’re called winter cherries. And these”—he gestured toward some that were like red platters with… tiny green penises—“are anthurium, and not dick plates like I originally thought.”
He was really willing to make light of this. Okay, I could stick around for this kind of tour.
As we walked, he continued to point out some of his favorites, and as the path looped back around to the entrance, disappointment crept up inside that the walk was almost over.
“Uh, fuck.” His exclamation caught me off-guard.
My gaze landed on the now-closed gates.Oh. Yeah, that warranted his reaction.
He whistled sharply, followed by a loud shout of, “Hello,” echoing in the night.
There was no answer.
A sign on the back of the wrought-iron caught my attention.I Cancelled Chiudono Alle 11.I had no idea what that meant, except that the English text underneath saidGates Close at 11.
Well, crap. “Joystick.” I pointed.
“Ah.” He let out a sheepish laugh—because this sexy as hell man could also look sheepish apparently and that made him sexier—and rubbed the back of his head. “Oops. I guess I’ve never been here this late before.”
This was why I didn’t take risks. Why I followed the rules and was responsible. Why I didn’t leave dinner parties with strange, tattooed men.
So why couldn’t I find it in me to be upset? “What now?” I was asking myself as much as him. “Is there a number we can call? Do we shout louder?”
“There’s a shorter fence over there.” Joystick gestured. “We’ll climb out.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“What?” He asked.
I gestured down at my gown, which would be brushing the ground if it weren’t for the short heels I wore. “I’m not exactly dressed for climbing fences.”
“It’s only three or four feet tall. I’ll help.”
It seemed smarter to me to make a better plan, which both of mine were. When he grabbed my hand again, my brain short-circuited at the warmth of his grip. Because apparently I was a silly little girl who couldn’t control herself around a pretty man.
Joystick tugged along a narrow path, through a wide enough section of plants that none of them caught my dress, toward a much shorter iron fence that ran around the property.
“I can’t climb that.” I looked between it and him with disbelief.
