Page 12 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“Someone like Giovanna or even Candi. But Candi just physically, your personalities aren’t a good match.”What am I saying?Shut up and get out of here.
“Why them?” Crinkle-lines form between his brows. “What makes them my type?”
“They’re gorgeous and have ridiculously perfect bodies.”
“You don’t see yourself that way?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t see myself that way. I’m justnotthat way.”
“Is that why you’re hiding over here by yourself and you don’t want me to talk to you?”
Ouch. “That’s not true. I’m not hiding.” Now the truth comes out. “I’m just — not used to people being aware of me.” I finish my drink as though it will somehow erase what I just said.
“I’m aware of you.” He stares directly into my eyes and the room around us disappears. “I’m very aware of you.”
He releases my gaze and raises his hand toward Barry then points at my empty glass.
“Where do you get your inspiration from for your steamy scenes? I’m curious about how authors come up the scenes they write.”
“Well, it’s not from personal experience, I can tell you that.” My face, neck, and ears grow impossibly hot as the words that spilled out of my mouth register in my head. Terrified to look at him, I try to backpedal. “What I mean to say is that sometimes we have to use our imagination, you know, to fill in the blanks, so to speak.” My backpedaling is failing miserably.
He lets out a loud belly laugh that tempers into a broad smile as he looks at me.
Nothing like admitting to a confirmed sex-god that your sex life is pathetic. Ugh. Please, can the floor just open up and swallow me?
“So, if you have no personal experience, then how do you write it?” His smile is gone and he sounds genuinely curious.
I fumble with the fabric, trying to drape it across at least one leg, and failing. “Well, we research. We read books, and — and we watch movies. It’s research. And then we create the fantasy with words in our stories.” I’m a bumbling fool.
He rubs his index finger across his mustache. “So, you watch a movie, fantasize about someone in the movie, and then write out your fantasy?”
I think I’m going to pass out. “I’m not having sex with you.”Oh God, where are my filters?
Another bellowing laugh erupts from him. “Who said I want to have sex with you?”
“You do know you have a reputation for being a playboy, right? Always rotating through women?” I swirl my index finger in the air.
“You know you can’t believe everything you read, right?”
“True.” I’ll give him that. “Okay, convince me you’re not a total player.” Why did that sound like a dare?
