“TMI?” I giggle. And I never giggle.
“Keep going. I like TMI.”
I roll my eyes. “You would.”
“I like it when a girl sits on my face,” he says.
“I like sitting on guys’ faces.”
“I like fucking standing up. Girl pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped tight around my hips. Something about that angle.” He hums, and the sound hits me right between the thighs.
My skin warms at the description. No guy has ever fucked me against a wall. Caleb could support my weight. He’s strong. The muscles in his arms are a work of art. “I just like getting fucked.”
He laughs. “Gracie. You should drink tequila more often. It’s like truth serum.”
“You just want me to blab all my secrets.”
“Definitely,” he says without hesitation. “I do have one major question for you.”
“What is it?” I roll the window down, letting the warm night air flow into the car.
But it’s still too damn hot outside so I immediately roll the window back up.
“How many?”
“How many what?” I glance over at him.
“How many guys have you been with, G?”
“How many girls have you been with, C?” I throw back at him.
“I asked first.”
Damn it, he really did this time.
I sit there and calculate, silently counting them up in my head. “Actual sex partners?”
I need some clarification here.
“Yeah. Guys you’ve had sex with,” he reaffirms.
“Penetrative or just messing around?”
He chuckles. “Let’s go for the whole enchilada. Penetration only. Does that change the number drastically?”
I say nothing because it does.
“It does for me,” he continues.
“Oh, so you’ve had sex with guys?” I’m teasing him.
“No, I don’t swing that way,” he says. “What about you? You ever mess around with girls?”
“Hayden and I made out once,” I tell him, immediately hating how honest tequila makes me.
His eyes look like they’re ready to bug out of his head. “That woul
d’ve been a sight to see.”