can push her.
ME: Are you sure it wasn’t you who wants to know if I’m good in the sack? It seemed like something you’d ask.
Again, her reply is immediate.
EMORY: Okay, so, not going to lie, it is totally something I’d say. But not to an author I’m interviewing. Especially one who has already accused me of being unprofessional.
I grin, liking that she’s being so honest.
ME: So, you do want to know about my sexual prowess or you don’t?
EMORY: I’m pretty sure I already know.
ME: Oh, really? How’s that?
EMORY: You’re forgetting I’ve read Drown with Me. You can’t write sex that hot and umm—okay, I’m just going to say it—stimulating if you can’t deliver. Or maybe you can and I’m just hoping it’s the former.
The fact that she found the sex scenes in my book not only hot, but stimulating, is hot in itself. I reach down and rearrange my junk because, clearly, my dick likes this too.
ME: Is there a reason you’re hoping I’m as good in reality as I am on paper?
This time, her response takes longer to come through.
Did I go too far? Scratching my temple with my free hand, I slide my thumb over my cell screen, about to apologize for what I just said, when her reply comes through.
EMORY: Let’s just say I have an unfortunate weakness for assholes. And you, sir, fit the bill.
Well, fuck me five ways to Sunday. Her response has me grinning like a fool, and my dick is doing a happy dance in my pants.
The way I see it, I’ve already blown any chance of Sebastian seeing me in a professional light, so I may as well be myself. I mean, this interview is going to benefit his career more than mine, so if he’s put off by my hot-mess self, then fine. I can do a regular style of write-up on Drown with Me without his input.
SEBASTIAN: Well, in that case, I am phenomenal in bed. Not to brag or anything, but I satisfy myself on the regular.
I burst out laughing, pleased he’s as funny as he is assholeish.
ME: Hmm, I’m not sure that self-love counts.
SEBASTIAN: Why not? You have to love yourself in order to love someone else, right?
ME: Indeed, but that’s not the kind of lovin’ I was inquiring about…
SEBASTIAN: Oh, well, in that case…
SEBASTIAN: I’ve never received any complaints. In fact, my long-term ex told me flat-out the reason she stayed with me for so long was because of my killer moves in the bedroom.
Wow. What a bitch. I’m actually a little pissed on his behalf. What kind of person says that? My thumbs fly over my cell screen as I reply.
ME: She sounds lovely. But her loss is your hand’s gain.
SEBASTIAN: Bahahaha. That it is.
ME: You must have been a real unbearable prick if she was willing to give up the good stuff.
SEBASTIAN: Honestly, I think that was the problem. I wasn’t enough of a prick. She didn’t like my day job and accused me of being unambitious. She wanted me to be as driven in the ‘real world’ as I am in bed.
There is so much going on in that one text that I’m not sure what part to tackle first. I was joking about him being an unbearable prick… kind of. But his ex sounds like a real piece of work. The guy is a caregiver, for goodness’ sake. That’s pretty damn amazing in my book.
Then there’s the ‘as driven in life as in bed’ comment. I think he threw that in to lighten the conversation, but it also sounds like it bears truth.
SEBASTIAN: That was a little heavy, huh? Sorry about that. We can go back to discussing my superior sexing skills now.
My smile is instantaneous. This guy.
ME: It’s all good. I just want to say, your ex sounds like an A-grade bitch. Now, we can return to your dick. You may carry on informing me of his unparalleled abilities.
SEBASTIAN: You know, I’ve just had an excellent idea. How would you feel about doing me a favor? In return, I would, of course, owe you a favor of similar value.
“What’s that look about?” Kins asks, scaring the absolute crap out of me.
I throw my phone in the air and clutch my racing heart. “Where the hell did you come from?” I gasp.
Kinsley and Atticus stand side by side at the end of the couch, each holding a glass of wine. They exchange a quizzical look then Kins says, “We got in a few