Extrait

“How much of this have you read?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Probably not, but I need to know if you got to this part.”

He cleared his throat. Wait. Was he going to read from it? No. Please, no. “I only read the first chapter,” I said in a rush. “And you look like you’re in the middle of the book, so—”

“Good. Then this will be fresh and new to you. Let me see, where was I?” He dragged a finger over the page and then tapped the center.

“Oh, yes. Here. ‘Fulton had promised that when he was done with me that I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a day, and he was right.’ Huh. Impressive.” My eyes widened.

“‘The things the man did with his tongue and his fingers had only been surpassed by his shockingly large, decadently pulsing, and wickedly throbbing—’” Hawke chuckled. “This woman has a knack for adverbs, doesn’t she?”

“You can stop now.”

“‘Manhood.’”

“What?” I gasped.

“That’s the end of that sentence,” he explained, and when he glanced up, I immediately knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to burn me alive. “Oh, you may not know what she means by manhood. I do believe she’s talking about his cock. Prick. Dick. His—” “Oh, my gods,” I whispered.

“His—apparently—extremely large, throbbing and pulsing—”

“I get it! I completely understand.”

“Just wanted to make sure. Wouldn’t want you to be too embarrassed to ask and think she was referencing his love for her or something.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“And I’m about to stab you,” I warned. “In a very violent manner.”