Hooking Up (Shacking Up 2)

I blow out a breath as he finishes unwrapping it and frowns. Boys, so clueless.

“It’s a glass dildo.”

“Fuck,” Unfriendly mutters.

“That’s exactly what it’s for.”

This time I get a smile out of him. I don’t like his teeth. They’re too white. And he’s only smiling because he wants to be the one to use that on me. I suppose the one important thing I’ve discovered about myself is that I own an extraordinary number of sex toys and it’s a real shame I was dumb enough to marry a man who is too insecure to enjoy them with me. I guess I can thank Brittany Whore-ton for forcing me to see the light.

“This should be okay for your carry-on.” Serious Face returns it to the padded envelope.

I think I’m almost free when he pulls out a very sizable bottle of lube. And the anal lube. And my toy cleaner. None of which conform to carry-on regulations. I know this. It’s why they’re in what was supposed to be my checked bag. I had high hopes for the coming weeks.

I close my eyes, worried that I’m moving from annoyed embarrassment to the tearful kind, and pray to some random God, hopefully a female one, that this will all be over soon. When I open my eyes, the guards are inspecting my bottles of lube. I glance to the line of waiting, would-be flyers. A few look my way, but quickly avert their eyes when they see my delicates vomiting out of my case.

And then I think I’ve completely lost my mind. Passing through the X-ray machine, dressed in a navy suit, with a five o’clock shadow that could kill a specter, is Lexington Mills. I blink. And blink again. “No effing way.”

I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to like it. I said that to him the last time I saw him. While attempting to choke him with his tie. For all intents and purposes that’s considered sexual assault.

He fastens a watch around his wrist. Who even wears a watch these days? Lexington pockets his passport, phone, and wallet and shoulders his messenger bag. It’s masculine for a man-purse, just like he is. I felt just how masculine he is between my legs when I begged him to have sex with me. Oh God, I begged him. Now that I’m past the shock stage and fully immersed and basking in my anger, I can clearly see how unhinged I was. My mortification is doubled by my suitcase of fuck toys.

Before he slips his feet back into his shoes I note his socks. They’re patterned. And not just with dots or diamonds or some pretentious houndstooth check. His socks are bright blue with what appear to be little bacon strips decorating them. Who is this man?

As I take a moment to reverse the circuit, checking out his ass on the way back up to his face, I realize he’s staring back at me. I look away quickly, but pretending I don’t recognize him isn’t going to work. Especially since these guys are still going through my damn bag, and my sex toys and lingerie are on display for everyone passing by, including Lexington.

He seems just as shocked to see me as I am to see him. His expression grows serious as he shoves his feet in his shoes and surveys the area around me.

I brace myself for some kind of confrontation as he heads toward me, but that’s not what happens. I’m stunned when he pulls me in for a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. Keeping his hold on my arms as he backs away, tight smile still in place. “Amalie! So good to see you! Are you traveling alone?”

I’m speechless at first, unable to understand why he’s being so pleasant. “I-I. Yes. I’m alone.” I feel my chin start to quiver. Dammit. I can’t cry right now.

“That’s good.” He nods, eyes moving over my face, seeming strangely concerned. “I was worried—”

When he doesn’t finish the sentence, I fill the awkward silence. “I thought I deserved an escape.”

“You do. Definitely.” He glances at my open luggage, and leans in to whisper. “Is that yours?”

I purse my lips and nod. This feels a lot like a pap. I might as well show everyone my vagina with all the things I generally put on, or in, it, already available for public viewing.

He steps back, his expression somewhere between amused and intrigued. I wait for some snarky comment to add to my humiliation that never seems to end, one that will send me over the edge, back into the land of tears and sadness. Anger is so much easier. “It’s a real shame you have to attend the conference alone.”

What the hell is he talking about?

Lexington turns his megawatt smile on the guards. “Amalie is the queen of sex, obviously.” He gestures to my bag. “I’m so glad to see you’ve brought so many of the new products for the Extreme Pleasure line.”

I cough. The Extreme what? I don’t get what’s happening here.

Lexington points to the black bottle. “Do you mind?”

I look to the guards who seem very confused. “You know this guy?”

“We work for the same company,” Lexington says.

I’m so discombobulated. I don’t understand where he’s going with this.

He leans close to me again and whispers. “Follow my lead.” Then he gives me a knowing wink as he grabs the bottle, addressing the guards. “This is great stuff.” He flips it in his hand, possibly judging the heft as he checks the label. It’s not even close to full. I’m sure he’s noticed. He turns his charming white-toothed smile on me, his tongue peeking out just a little.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. I kissed him. On my wedding night. I had my tongue in his mouth. I know how soft his lips are. It was short-lived, because he was fighting off my advances—sort of—but I still remember every second of it. Especially the part where his tongue tangled with mine briefly.

He rolls the bottle between his palms, as if he’s warming it up. “Very effective, isn’t it, Amalie?”

It finally dawns on me that he’s trying to save me, and it’s possible that he can tell I’m on the verge of tears since he’s witnessed me shed them rather recently. I clear my throat and do my best to play along. “Oh, yes.” I nod. “Extremely effective.”

“So much better than products that numb, wouldn’t you agree?” He’s still holding my gaze, his concern still obvious even though he’s pretending this is a normal conversation to have in the middle of airport security. Meanwhile the lines continue to build behind us.

I return his smile with a wavering one of my own and address the security guards, who look so incredibly confused. “Definitely. I one hundred percent agree. What would be the point of using something that numbs? Then no one feels anything, and that defeats the whole purpose.” I place a hand on his bicep, the squeeze for me, but also to demonstrate my appreciation for what he’s doing.

“That’s right, Amalie.” He leans toward the guys, lowering his voice. “This is a muscle relaxant, to help accommodate for larger insertions.”

Both guards look at me, then back down at the contents of the bag. As it is, I’m working to hold back the hysterical laughter that very well may turn into tears. Lex leans in further and taps the stainless-steel plug. It’s new. I haven’t used it before. I’m not even sure I’m ready for something like that. The two smaller ones are silicone. Obviously I’ve been using them by myself because the only anal thing about Armstrong was his personality.

Lexington strokes the steel like a lover while he holds my gaze. “This beauty right here is exactly what I’m referring to.”