“Seems like more than you’d need for a weekend,” he remarked as I pulled myself over the side of the bed to grab my toppled purse, which had ejected a comically long strip of condoms on its way to the ground.
“Yeah, probably,” I laughed, because it had clearly been wishful thinking that compelled me to pack three dozen rubbers for less than forty-eight hours with Caspar. “I guess I can admit now that he was shit in bed,” I snorted as I put my purse back onto the nightstand and snuggled back into the covers.
Adam laughed. “I mean I always knew that, but I’m glad you finally got to get it off your chest.”
“Shut up, you did not always know that,” I retorted. But Adam said nothing in response, only wearing a self-satisfied smirk as he shut his laptop—which was a specific type of Adam smugness that meant he was telling the truth. I squinted at him. “How?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I know what women look like when they’ve been thoroughly fucked,” he said as he ambled over to the bar.
“What wrong way would I take that?”
“I have no idea. I was just putting some kind of preface on the statement since we don’t usually talk about this shit, and I don’t know how weird you’re going to be about it,” he said, lobbing a water bottle onto the bed. “Drink that.”
I scoffed. “I’m not going to be weird. We talk plenty about your overactive sex life,” I said as I uncapped the bottle and took a swig.
“We talk plenty about the women I go on dates with. Not how good I am in bed and how good you haven’t had it for years.”
I paused, something about that sentence bringing heat to my cheeks.
“Okay. Fair,” I relented, clearing my throat. “So, fine—you know what women look like when they’ve been thoroughly fucked. And you’re saying in the five years you’ve known me, I’ve never once looked that way to you?”
Adam wore a dubious look as he leaned against the bar. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Yes,” I said. And for the next two-and-a-half seconds, I did my best to withstand the pressure of his gaze as he tried to decide if I could in fact handle the truth. For some reason, it was making my pulse pick up.
But then with a smirk and swig of his water, Adam finally spoke.
“I saw you look like that once. But not because of Caspar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ace Hotel in Chicago. Two years ago.”
I paused. Then my eyes went wide.
Oh, shit.
That was all he had to say for me to know exactly what he was talking about, because that had in fact been a particularly stellar orgasm thanks to the two-hundred-dollar vibrator I’d bought on that business trip. My cheeks heated up as I ignored the look of sheer entertainment on Adam’s face.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I answered the door a good twenty minutes after I… finished. So I’m really not sure how you could’ve known.”
“Like I said, I just know what it looks like.”
“Of course. Because you’re the king of orgasms and every woman you’ve ever slept with has woken up all fresh-faced and glowing.”
“You’re mocking me right now, but you know it’s true.”
“Only because you’ve subjected me to being in the hotel room right next to yours for the past five years. I swear to God there were times the moaning was so dramatic I thought you were blasting porn.”
“Nah. I don’t even watch porn.”
“Yeah, right,” I laughed. But when I looked at him, I could tell he was being serious. “Shut up,” I said. “You don’t watch porn, Adam? I don’t believe you.”
He only smiled at me. “You don’t have to.”
“Okay. So basically, you’re saying you never…” I trailed off, suddenly realizing exactly what I was asking a man who was very much my boss.