Faking It - Crusie Jennifer (электронные книги без регистрации .TXT) 📗

“You know, I’ve never heard a woman actually say that until now,” Davy said, picking up a pillow.

“New experiences are good,” Tilda said, and covered the second pillow. Then she slid into bed and sank back. “Oh, these are really good.”

“So am I,” Davy said. “You want to tell me what’s wrong here? Because I could have sworn you made it Sunday night.” He flipped one covered pillow behind him and started on the next one.

“I did.” Tilda slipped a little farther under the covers. “Thank you. Good night.”

“Matilda,” Davy said. “Talk.”

Tilda frowned at him. “Me, talk? I tell you a guy two floors down is going to kill you and you don’t bat an eye. What is it again that you do for a living?”

“ ‘I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork,’” Davy said.

“Grosse Pointe Blank,” Tilda said. “This is not a movie.”

“I find it hard to believe that Ford Brown is trying to kill me.”

“And that’s because…?”

Davy shrugged. “What’s he waiting for?”

Tilda thought about it. “Instructions?”

“That must be it,” Davy said. “Since this may be my last night on earth, how about-”

“No,” Tilda said.

“You want to explain this to me?”

She tried to frown at him but the sheet was in the way. “Hey, I can not want to.”

“Yes, you can,” Davy said. “I just want to know why. Come on.” He smiled at her. “Talk to me.”

Tilda shook her head, her mouth under the covers. “I’m much too worried about Ford gunning you down. If I was under you, he’d get me, too.”

“He’s too efficient for that.” Davy leaned closer, his smile still in place. “Tell you what. Ten minutes. I’ll beat my own best time.”

“Really not in the mood.”

“Five minutes.”

“Davy.”

He sighed and pushed himself up in the bed until he was leaning against the wall, the new pillows bunched behind him, and he looked damn good shirtless in the moonlight. “Okay, then tell me why, so I don’t make whatever terrible mistake I made again.”

“You know you didn’t make a mistake.” Tilda slid deeper into the bed, and Davy pulled the sheet down so her face was uncovered.

“It’s hard to hear you under there. Come on up and talk.”

Tilda closed her eyes. “I have to paint tomorrow, and I need my sleep.”

“So tell me and get it over with. Where’d I screw up?”

Tilda thought, Tell him something so he’ll shut up, and shoved the covers down. “Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise not to get insulted or wounded or mad.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Davy said, sounding unconcerned.

“Listen, there’s a reason people lie to each other,” Tilda said, feeling waspish. “It keeps them from killing each other.”

Davy pulled her pillows out from under her head.

“Hey!”

Then he piled up her pillows against the headboard and patted them. “Come on. My ego can take damn near anything.”

“Well, that’s true.” Tilda sat up and scooted back against the pillows. “Okay, but you asked for it. I tried to be polite. It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, spit it out and get it over with.”

“No, that’s it. That’s what’s wrong. You. Sex. The whole thing. It’s embarrassing. And dangerous.” She turned to find Davy looking at her with his “you’re insane” look. “I don’t know you very well, okay? I met you five days ago. I don’t know anything about you and all of a sudden there you are.”

“There I am,” Davy said, sounding mystified.

“You know.” Tilda pointed to the south. “There.”

“That’s where the good stuff is. You’re overthinking this.”

Tilda looked straight ahead. “I know what I feel.”

“Because,” Davy went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “if you think about it too much, you’ll never do it.”

“Not true,” Tilda said, exasperated.

“I mean, when you think about what you’re actually doing-”

“Which I don’t want to.”

“-let alone what you sound like-”

Tilda winced. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“-it makes you wonder how anybody can videotape themselves-”

“Oh, God.” Tilda sank down into the bed, trying not to imagine a videotape of the couch.

“-although I’m up for that if you are.”

Tilda sat up. “Are you nuts?”

“Why?” Davy said, startled.

“Do you pay any attention to me at all?”

“Well, I’d like to,” Davy said. “But you have a headache.”

“Not that kind of attention,” Tilda said, warming to her subject, “although I could point out that you don’t pay a lot of attention there, either.”

“Hey,” Davy said. “I paid attention.”

“Yes, to what you were doing,” Tilda said. “Not to me.”

“You were what I was doing.”

“It’s not like you talked to me. It’s not like you made eye contact.”

“My mouth was full,” Davy said, sounding annoyed. “And my head was between your thighs. You want eye contact, you’re gonna have to lean down.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it,” Tilda muttered, settling back against the pillows.

“Okay, let’s cut to the chase,” Davy said. “You came, right? No faking.”

“Yes.” Tilda stared at the skylights.

“And it was good, right? No small stuff. The real thing.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guarantee I’ll get you there again,” Davy said, exasperated.

“I don’t want you to,” Tilda said. “That’s my point.”

“You don’t want to come.”

“I don’t want to come with you,” Tilda said. “I don’t know you, and you’re a stranger, and you’re dangerous and you’re… down there… and I’m moaning and acting like an idiot and saying God knows what and then you’re inside me and the next day I can’t even look at you.”

“Okay, so we won’t talk during the day,” Davy said, the voice of reason.

Tilda glared at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No,” Davy said, mystified. “I’m trying to be accommodating. It’s not like you’re seeing anybody else who’s doing this for you.”

Tilda turned back to the skylight. “I can do it for myself.”

“Not like I can do it for you,” Davy said, and she turned to him, amazed by his arrogance.

“Hey, I can give myself orgasms that blow me out of bed, thank you. My vibrator’s electric. It plugs in, Sparky. Now can I get some sleep?” She stopped when she realized she’d finally made him speechless. “Look, don’t take it personally-”

“You’d rather have a vibrator than me,” Davy said.

“It’s a good one,” she said, trying to soften the blow. “It’s not battery-operated. It plugs in.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Eve gave it to me for Christmas ten years ago, so I’ve had it a while and…” She trailed off as she watched his face.

“You’re in a long-term relationship with an appliance,” Davy said.

“Hey.” Tilda straightened. “I never have to talk to it, it never makes me feel embarrassed, and it never lets me down.”

“You know, you could say the same thing about me if you weren’t so uptight,” Davy said. “Jesus.”

“I am not uptight,” Tilda said.

“Louise is not uptight,” Davy said. “You are winched to the eyebrows.” He shook his head. “Eve gave you the vibrator. What did Louise give you? A sailor?”

“They went in on it together,” Tilda said icily. “So now you have your answer. Satisfied?”

“Oddly enough, no” He took a deep breath. “Look, this is not a problem. I’m an open-minded man. How about a threesome?”

“What?” Tilda said, outraged.

“You, me, and the machine,” Davy said.

“No,” Tilda said, heroically refraining from throwing something at him. “I do not want a threesome. Now, may I please go to sleep?”

“Honey, I don’t think you ever wake up.” Davy got out of bed.

“Oh, right, because I don’t want you, I must be half-dead.” Tilda slid down in bed. “Your ego astounds me.”

Davy stopped at the end of the bed. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“Sunday,” Tilda said savagely, under the covers.

“With somebody besides me,” Davy said with exaggerated patience.