Free The Gamble: A Novel by Xavier Neal Page B

over my face.
     
    Fuck. I can't believe I did that. I repeat. What the hell is wrong with me?
     
    There's a small chortle out of him. “You liked it, didn't you?”
     
    Quickly I drop my hands and snip, “No.”
     
    Lie. Total lie. I fucking loved it. Give me an underwear check right now and it would be more than enough evidence. It's not because watching other people gets me off, well I guess in a way it does because I like porn as much as the next girl, but if I'm being honest, everything about how he moved down to the way he was fucking breathing was exhilarating. I've always been a little curious about what makes girls paw at his front door like junkies. Of course I've heard the shit he says. The pick-up lines and naughty guarantees. From a distance it looks like he easily fulfills those filthy vows. Maybe there's something inside of me that wants to know what it's like to have the promise made and then executed. Holy shit. I can't believe I'm even considering in a hypothetical sense, having sex with him. Ugh. I need to start drinking.
     
    “It's cool if you did.” Warren shrugs, reaching for the beer to put in the fridge. “Everyone has their kink. Do you like to watch when a guy strokes himself before you fuck?”
     
    The question trips my jaw open even though I know I can't answer it.
     
    Sh. No...don't ask me that.
     
    After putting the items away in the fridge, he softly continues, “If you're not comfortable telling me what you like in the sack it's not a big deal, Alexxa. I can respect that. I mean I thought we were cool enough but-”
     
    “It's not that we're not,” my voice rushes to say forgetting for a moment how embarrassing the next part is going to be. “It's just um...I don't know the answer to your question.”
     
    “You don't know if you like it?”
     
    “Right.”
     
    Confused, he leans against the counter opposite of me. “So you're ambivalent then?”
     
    “Not exactly,” I mumble.
     
    “What do you mean not exactly? There's not really a fourth option here. You either like it or you don't or you couldn't care either way. I mean the only way there would be a fourth option is if-” His voice stops short as his eyes bulge from skull. “If you're a-”
     
    My hand swiftly flies over his mouth. In a low growl, I threaten, “If you finish that sentence so help me God I'll literally castrate you right here in the kitchen.”
     
    Warren’s eyes whimper for him.
     
    Very carefully I remove my hand. “I am.”
     
    You too. No shrieking or screaming the information. It's bad enough it's true. I don't need it to be a Facebook headline.
     
    Shock and awe fill his whisper alike. “How is that fucking possible? With all due respect, you're not exactly a frumpy dumpty or some halo wearing school girl. You're a grown ass woman who, again with all due respect, probably looks fucking amazing naked.”
     
    A sweet sigh comes from me. “Thanks. I do look pretty amazing naked.”
     
    What? I do!
     
    “What gives? Waiting for marriage or some shit?”
     
    I shake my head profusely and lean back against the counter opposite of him. “No. It just never happened. You know, guys rarely make it to the third date, and forgive me for not wanting to give it up on the first night. I'm not needing you to put a ring on it, but I'm not looking to be that thing you brag about over breakfast with the bros either.”
     
    Probably doesn't help I am one of the bros who hears the brags over breakfast. Luca's conquests typically make for some sort of first meal conversation, sometimes briefly, sometimes in detail and while I can't pin point exactly the last time Warren got some, I do know it was definitely the topic around the toaster waffles we were having.
     
    “You're just waiting for a boyfriend then?”
     
    An innocent shrug escapes. “Guess so.”
     
    “And you've never had a boyfriend?” Before I have a chance to answer he rambles, “You've never had a boyfriend since we've been