“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I say, wanting to find out every little detail that I can. Reese seems really open after sex and I’m going to use that to my advantage.

He moans. “Mmmm, I hate cats.” His muffled answer makes me belt out a laugh.

“That does not even count. Come on, Carroll, you can do better than that. I totally hate cats too though. They’re so smug.” My hands work his upper arms, pushing and pulling his muscles until they loosen. His breathing is peaceful and steady underneath me.

“I don’t know, it’s hard to think when you’re touching me like this. Why don’t you just ask me a question?” He turns his head and rests on his cheek, eyes closed; his long lashes brushing his cheekbone. Jesus, I would kill for lashes like that. Why do guys get the best lashes? “Dylan.”

“I’m thinking.” I have questions, so many questions. But am I brave enough to ask them? I bite my lip and decide to start slow. “Do you hook up with a lot of girls at weddings?” That isn’t too bad. It’s not like I asked him how many girls he’s slept with which I was very curious about. His eyes open for a moment and then he closes them again.

“I’m not sure what classifies a lot but yes, I’ve hooked up with women at weddings before.” He moans as I press my thumbs deeply into his upper back. “I’m sure I wasn’t your first either.”

“Yes you were,” I blurt out, seeing his eyes pop open again. He blinks rapidly before he flips under me, holding me still so that I’m now straddling his stomach. His hands run up my thighs and play with my garter as I begin rubbing his chest. “Well, you were my first slutty wedding sex. I’ve had a few drunken make out sessions at weddings before.” I haven’t, that’s a total lie. I’ve actually never done anything with a stranger at a wedding besides dance with them. But the way Reese is staring up at me right now, eyes full of wonder, I feel the need to not sound like such an angelic virgin hovering over this experienced player. I clear my throat and massage down his arms, seeing his eyes close again and giving me the opportunity to stare while he isn’t watching me. “Have you called other girls love?”

A small smile forms on his lips as his eyes remain closed. “No, just you.”

I feel my heart swell. Hmm, I like that. “Were there a lot of girls before me?” I speak without thought and clamp my eyes shut, bracing myself for his answer. The same image runs through my mind of the hundreds of girls in his office and I pray for a low number. A really low number.

“Dylan, do you really want to go there? Can’t you just ask me what my favorite movie is or some shit?”

I slowly open my eyes and see him staring at me, green eyes blazing. Jesus, was it that big of a number that he didn’t want to tell me? I think I have the right to know. “You know my number, it’s only fair. Just tell me if it’s in the triple digits or not.” My hands rest on his abdomen and I get a shocked expression.

“Jesus Christ. Triple digits?” He scrubs down his face with both hands. “I don’t know, close to twenty probably. Does it really f**king matter?” His hands return to my thighs and I glare at him.

“Yes, it really f**king matters, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.” Sliding off his body, I kneel next to him on the bed and grab a pillow to cover myself with. He quickly takes it away. “Give me that.”

“No. It’s my birthday and I want to look at you.” He tucks the pillow behind his head. “Now, tell me why it matters?” I shake my head and get off the bed, walking towards the doorway. “Where are you going?”

“To get some cake. It’s not like I can leave or anything. You destroyed my dress and I don’t have a car,” I call out behind me as I walk down the hallway. My mind is racing. Close to twenty? I’ve been with one guy besides him. One. I walk around the couch and pick up his dress shirt, slipping it on and letting it hang open since all the buttons had been ripped off. I bring the collar around my face and inhale deeply. Oh man. Please let me keep this. I slice two pieces of cake and place them on plates, grabbing some forks and heading back down the hallway. Reese is now sitting up, his back against the headboard and the covers pulled up around his waist

“Wow.” I stop at the end of the bed and stare at him after he speaks, his eyes fixated on my attire. “You look beautiful in my shirt. Keep it.”

I smile and climb up on the bed, handing him his plate. “Here, happy birthday, handsome.” I lean in and give him a quick kiss with his cake, lingering for a few seconds as he moans against my lips.

He smiles at me and takes it, grabbing a huge bite with his fork. “Mmmm, this is really good.” Watching his perfect mouth work the bite, I see his adam’s apple move as it slides down his throat. “You can make this for me every year.”

My fork hovers in the air as I’m about to take a bite myself. His eyes fix on mine and I quickly look down and pull the bite in. Every year? I moan softly around my bite and relish in the delicious banana flavor. This cake is too easy to taste this good. I watch in amusement as he devours his cake quickly, leaning over and placing his empty plate on the nightstand. The muffled sound of a ringtone rings through the bedroom.

“Shit,” he says as he hangs over the side of the bed and pulls his phone out of his pants. He shakes his head quickly before he answers it, exhaling and leaning back against the headboard.