The truth of the matter was simply that I felt s*x was too distracting, and I had no intention of being distracted at that point in my life. To that end I kept my hair pulled back in a tight tail and wore prescription glasses with the ugliest frames I could purchase.
“All right then. Come with me to mine.”
“To yours?” I repeated stupidly. I wanted to groan and beat my head against the wall. My God, I was so inept.
“My place.”
“Excuse me?” He wasn’t deterred?
“My hotel.” He wasn’t deterred!
“Where…” I was rock hard—an unusual circumstance for me—and I licked my lips again and shifted, I hoped unobtrusively. I was relieved that I didn’t follow the latest trends and that my trousers were loosely cut. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Moonrise Vancouver Suites. I have a premium suite.”
