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Erika smirked. “I’m not discussing my fantasies or sex toys with you.”
“Toys? Plural? Hot damn.” He rose from the couch, heading toward her bedroom. “Show them to me.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Erika quickly followed, trying to cut him off as he reached for her nightstand drawer.
If she’d put any real effort behind stopping him, he would have relented, but her grip was weak at best. Once he opened the drawer, he understood why.
It was empty except for some lip balm, a bottle of aspirin, some tissues, and a crossword puzzle book.
“Erik,” he drawled, about to close the drawer…when he spotted something tucked in the back. Reaching in, he pulled out a three-pack of condoms. “Condoms?”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Just in case. It doesn’t hurt to have them on hand.”
“The box isn’t even open.”
She grimaced. “Truth be told, that box made the move with me.”
His eyes widened as he flipped it over. Jesus. How long had she had these? “They expire in a few months.”
She leaned forward, glancing at the expiry date. “Really? Damn. Guess I should replace them.”
He wanted to say why bother because she obviously didn’t need them. Instead, he tossed them back in the drawer and closed it. “Toys?” he prompted, expecting her to tell him to go take a flying leap.
What he did not anticipate was her sinking down to the edge of the mattress, bending forward, and reaching under the bed to pull out a shoebox.
Placing it next to her on the bed, she lifted the lid.
Blake sighed at her pathetic collection. “Seriously? One vibrator, lube…and where the hell did you find a dildo that small?”
She scowled. “That’s not small. It’s perfectly average.”
Blake’s definition of average and hers differed greatly. Then he realized she’d inadvertently given him some insight into her past lovers. “How often do you play with these?”
She glanced at the box, shrugging one shoulder. “Not very often. I haven’t really mastered masturbation.” Then she giggled at her choice of words, reminding him she’d drunk quite a bit of wine tonight.
He should probably grab her a bottle of water, a couple ibuprofen, and tuck her in for the night. Instead, he asked, “What’s that mean?”
“It’s too hard,” she said, with an adorable pout.
Blake couldn’t help it. He laughed. “No, it’s not.”
“I think too much. And there’s too much work to do to actually get myself there.”
He found that tidbit both curious and interesting. Sitting down next to her on the bed, he twisted to face her. “Set the scene for me. Tell me what you normally do. Maybe I can offer some advice.”
She laughed, even as she shook her head. “Oh my God, I’ve clearly had too much wine because I swear I’m actually tempted to tell you.”
“Are you drunk?”
Erika considered his question. “Not really. I’d say I’m closer to tipsy.”
That response convinced him to keep going. If she was wasted, he’d end things here. But Erika was in command of her faculties—she wasn’t slurring or stumbling, and her eyes were perfectly focused on him. The wine was simply encouraging her to let her guard down a bit, something she didn’t do nearly enough. He liked talking to her like this…liked hearing her giggle, seeing her blush, liked knowing that when she answered his questions, she was telling him the truth.
“So do as I said. When you masturbate, what’s your routine? Does it vary?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “It’s pretty much always the same. I use the vibrator on my clit to get myself wet. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. That’s why I have lube.”
Blake bit his lower lip to keep himself from showing any emotion, which was harder than he would have imagined. Right now, his emotions were overflowing, fluctuating between shock over her admission, annoyance that a beautiful, intelligent woman couldn’t get herself wet, mild amusement, curiosity, and outright horniness.
