Completely (New York 3)

That was more or less what Rosemary had already surmised.

“Why did you say yes?” Kal asked.

“I want to interview her.”

“Sure, but you could’ve come up with some other way.”

“The way she put it, it didn’t sound like a request, it sounded like an order. And since it’s what your mother wants, and what I want is access to your mother, I didn’t think I was in any position to say no. Besides, it means I’ll get to see more of you.”

“Sorry.”

“What on earth for?”

“Old Sherpa ladies are kind of bossy. And persnickety.”

Rosemary wanted to poke him for letting her comment about wanting to see him go unanswered. Instead, she turned her head and bit his collarbone hard enough to make him wince. “Many old women are bossy and persnickety because it’s the only power they have available. Are you going to be like this the entire trip, or will you take the stick out of your bunghole at some point and be your charming self?”

“There’s a stick up my bunghole?”

“There’s a meter-long rod up your bunghole, and there has been since the moment you achieved orgasm. I can only assume it’s because as soon as you completed the sex act, you remembered to be preoccupied with fidgeting over the news that your mother is insisting we all road trip to Wisconsin together, but if it’s something else, now would be the time to let me know.”

“No, that was the whole thing.”

He refused to acknowledge what had passed between them even as they sat bare-arsed atop the mattress it happened on.

Men were idiots. She officially had no use for them.

“?‘Bunghole’ is a really disgusting word,” Kal said.

“It’s no worse than ‘arsehole.’?”

“We don’t say ‘arsehole,’ we say ‘asshole,’ and it’s much worse than both.”

“You’re a tedious human being.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re not the first woman to think so.”

“No, I imagine there’s a long string of women behind me, all of whom found you tedious in the extreme. And small-penised, besides.”

It was the lowest form of insult—entirely untrue, also—but it did the trick. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes reanimated, and he leaned closer. “Did you just call me ‘small-penised,’ princess?”

She leaned, too, until their noses nearly touched. “I did.”

“Small-penised.” He shook his head. “You’re the meanest woman I’ve ever met. I just made you come like an actual freight train, huffing and puffing, and you should see how red you turned, like a fire engine—”

“Now you’re mixing metaphors.”

“And you have the audacity to insult my manhood. I tell you—”

“Stop telling me things now.” She kissed him. “You’re bad at it.”

“It’s just that you’re so scary.” He kissed her back, then dropped his head to nip at her neck. “Smelly, too.”

“We’re taking a shower now.”

“Is it a big shower?”

“It’s the ordinary size, but it’s marble. If you’re good, I’ll let you wash my hair.”