“Say it a little louder for the people in the back.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.
“Tell me everything! How was it? How big is his cock? How many orgasms did he give you?”
I bury my head in my hands because my bestie is so. Freaking. Loud. Cayenne giggles. “It’s not funny,” I tell her. “Keep your voice down. It’s only a casual arrangement, and if someone records you mouthing off and puts it on social media, I can wave bye-bye to my orgasms.”
“Sorry,” she says, sounding in no way apologetic. “I’ll be quieter. Just give me the goods.”
“It was the night of our wedding,” I admit. “And it was fucking incredible. His cock is huge, and he sure knows how to use it. He’s a damn beast in the bedroom.”
A throat clearing has me jerking my head up, and my cheeks heat as the waiter stands there, holding two plates, with an amused grin on his face.
“Newlyweds,” Cayenne explains as I die of mortification.
“That’s your fault,” I hiss when he has left our food and departed. “I’m not discussing my sex life in public again.”
“At least you have one now. This is great. I’m happy for you.”
“Don’t get carried away. He made it very clear that night and the following morning that it was a friends-with-benefits thing and nothing more.”
“Who cares as long as you’re getting all the O’s.”
“What’s that?” Sawyer asks, leaning over my shoulder, and I scream, almost having a coronary.
“How the hell did you come in without me hearing you?” I tilt my head back, looking at him.
“I’m stealthy.” He smirks as he loosens his tie.
“I wasn’t sure if you had dinner, so I brought some takeout home from the restaurant for you. It’s on a plate in the microwave if you want to heat it up.”
“Thanks, Syd. That was thoughtful.”
I smile. “No problem.” Things have been so much better since we cleared the air. I thought it might get awkward after we had sex, but it hasn’t been. We are both on the same page, and while we haven’t had sex since our wedding night, I’m hopeful it will happen again.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He points at my tablet. “What’s up?”
“Oh, that. Nothing.” I downplay it, placing my tablet down on the coffee table. “It’s just me being silly.”
“Uh-huh.” He drills me with one of those intense looks of his. I stare back at him, squirming on the couch. “I’m going to get changed while you heat my dinner, and then we’re talking about it.”
“You are so goddamned bossy.” I pout, unfurling my legs and standing.
“Never pretended otherwise.” He flashes me a quick grin before walking toward his bedroom.
I set a place at the island unit for him while his food is reheating. He reappears a few minutes later in a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, just as the microwave pings. Sawyer Hunt can make anything look good, and I drool every morning when he’s dressed in a suit, ready for work. But there is something downright sexy about casual Sawyer that really gets my juices flowing.
“You’re ogling me like I’m man candy,” he says, leaning over me to take the steaming plate from the microwave.
“You’re a good-looking guy, and I’m a red-blooded woman. Can’t blame me for looking.”
“Thanks? I think,” he says, placing the plate on the counter and sitting down.
“Want a glass of wine or a beer?” I ask as I remove the chilled Sancerre from the refrigerator.
“I’ll take wine. Thanks.”
I top up my own glass and fill a fresh one for him. I climb onto the stool beside him, watching him wolf down the pasta in record time. The silence isn’t uncomfortable though.
“I’m starving,” he says in between mouthfuls. “I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”
“You work too hard.” I take a sip of my wine.
“Why were you looking up art galleries?”
I shrug.
“Sydney.” He eyeballs me. “I thought we agreed to be more open. Tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s something Cayenne said over dinner. She thinks I should pursue my art dream instead of looking for more admin work that I’m sure to hate and bound to get fired from.”
“What art dream?” he asks before shoveling food in his mouth.
“I wanted to study art at NYU, but Daddy refused. He has never understood my love of painting, and he only indulged me growing up because I spent hours painting in our home studio and it kept me out of trouble.” To a point.
“Let’s park that for a second.” He finishes his meal and wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I know you were kicked out of West Lorian High and you had to go to public school. And I know you got arrested for shoplifting a couple of times. What was up with that?”
A red layer flits over my eyes as rage and embarrassment do a number on me. “You dug into my background?” I yell, jumping up. “How could you do that?”
“You honestly have to ask?” He quirks a brow before softening his expression and his tone. “I wanted to know who I was marrying.”
“And you couldn’t have just asked me?” God, this man. He’s insufferable. Just when I was starting to like him.
“Be truthful. Would you have told me if I had asked?”
“No.” I don’t hesitate to reply. “Of course, I wouldn’t. I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”
“I don’t think badly of you.” He stands, taking his wine in one hand and my hand in the other. “Let’s talk on the couch.”
I let him lead me over to the couch and pull me down beside him. He puts both our glasses down on the coffee table. “Look at me.” He takes my chin when I don’t obey. “Syd. I don’t think badly of you. Everyone goes through shit when they’re growing up. I was just curious, but you don’t have to tell me. It’s cool.”
“I went through a bad time when my best friend moved overseas.”
“You must have been very close. Are you still in contact with her?”
“We were. It was a he. And that would be a big fat nope. He ghosted me, and it hurt. I acted out. Got in trouble enough times at school they kicked me out. I think you can guess the rest.” That’s as much as I’m prepared to reveal. I don’t like talking about that part of my past because it usually involves a mini breakdown of sorts. I have worked hard the past few years to blank it from my mind before I drove myself insane. Or murdered my father or Jared.
“I got kicked out of WLH for banging one of the teachers and her friend with Anderson and Lauder. My parents went apeshit,” he explains, and my eyes pop wide.
“No fucking way? Which teacher?”
“You wouldn’t know her. She was young, and it was only her first year teaching. I’m pretty sure we ruined her career. It was a shitty way to repay her for a fucking awesome night.” He flashes me a wicked grin, and I test myself for jealousy, but there is none.
“Do Vanessa and Abby know that?”