Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I huffed. “It was not like that.” Then I made my way toward the information desk on the far side of the huge lobby.
“It was. I was stationary.” Of course, Daddy Longlegs was right on my heels. “You twirled into me. And you’re welcome for not letting you eat marble just then. Although, had my camera been out, I may have let you take the fall for the sake of entertainment.”
“Good to know your conscience isn’t very concrete.” I stopped in front of a rack of brochures and maps, plucking an English version from the stack.
When Vance snatched one in French and unfolded it, I mumbled, “Showoff,” under my breath.
“We should start in the Denon Hall then…” He went off on an overly detailed and complicated schedule of how we needed to tour the exhibits. Why was I surprised the man had made a specific itinerary for the museum?
He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and continued to list the exhibits, explaining his goal was to see all the ones on his itinerary in under two hours. “So, I’ll put a ten-minute warning in…”
“You’re setting a timer?” I asked.
“How else am I going to know if someone can actually visit the top exhibits in less than two hours?”
Who in the world would want to be that stressed on vacation?
Shaking my head, I stuffed my map inside my purse and started toward the exhibition hall. “You really need to learn to unclench your asshole, Vance.”
Chapter Ten
VANCE
The ten-minute warning sounded. And we hadn’t even made it to the Mona Lisa because Blake had stopped, yet again, at another marble statue.
Over the past one hundred and ten minutes, I’d realized she was like a magpie, except it wasn’t shiny things that drew her attention. It was nude male statues.
“Unclench…” Blake whispered, trailing her fingers over my back as she passed behind me to another man chiseled from stone, her gaze aimed up at the carved genitalia. On a snort, she flicked the appendage. Like a five-foot-one savage.
My attention strayed from the disrespected piece of art to her. “Did you just flick his dick?”
“Yeah.” She snapped another photo. “It’s small.”
Because that answer made complete sense…
It didn’t. It made zero sense. What in the hell did size have to do with her flicking it? “It’s a flaccid dick…”
She shot a smile over her shoulder. “Look at you using nice words.”
Two stone dicks later, the final timer buzzed, echoing into the dome ceiling.
Blake sighed. “Like I’ve been saying this whole time…The only way anyone is going to come in here and see every item on your list within two hours is if they rent one of those electric scooters and run people over on their way across this insane monstrosity.” She stopped to admire a framed piece of Renaissance art.
“If you hadn’t felt the need to inspect every penis in here, we would have been a lot closer to marking them all off.”
“If you hadn’t tried to make an itinerary out of something meant to be leisurely, the number of dicks I’d taken pictures of wouldn’t have mattered.” She moved to the next piece of art, hands behind her back as she stared up at the painting of a woman holding a naked baby. “I probably shouldn’t ask this—”
“Then don’t—”
“But what in the world possessed you to take pictures of your cock in front of world monuments?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. That word. On her lips.
“A nearing-thirty crisis?” she said.
Of all the backhanded comments. “Twenty-seven is not nearing thirty.”
“It is.” The chatter of conversation filled the silence between us. “Are you just an exhibitionist? Like to whip it out and flaunt it?” She held up her arms and circled her hips like she was attempting to hula-hoop. “Flop it around?”
She looked ridiculous, but for some reason, I found it charming. Jetlag? Stupidity? My secret sick need to be rejected, then punched in the face by a beautiful woman?
“Do I look like a guy who posts dick pics on the internet for entertainment?”
Her gaze dragged over me, one petite dark brow slowly lifting in appraisal. “In your street clothes, I can see it.”
“No, I didn’t start My Dick Travels because I like to whip it out and flaunt it.” I leaned in close to her ear. I swore I noticed her shiver when I blew a breath against her skin. “Very eloquent of you, by the way.”
She shifted away from me. “Then why did you?”
Why did people do anything? “Why do you read weird sex crap?”
“Excuse me?” She propped her hands on her hips and gave me a look that said calling her choice of reading material “weird sex crap” was close to a cardinal sin. “I do not read weird sex crap.”
“Come on, Blake. You leave your books on the corner of your desk. And, again, you and Margot don’t know how to whisper.”