Full Package by Lauren Blakely Page A

time on the other hand.
    â€œThat’s it.” I charge her, tickling her waist. “Tell me what toys and I’ll stop.”
    She cracks up and flails her arms, knocking me with elbows and hands and the spatula, too, until I give in to her cries for mercy.
    I stare at her in our tiny sliver of a kitchen. “Waiting.”
    â€œYou really want to know?”
    I nod eagerly. I’m playing with fire, but I can’t resist. The desire to know outweighs all else.
    She works the spatula under the bars again, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
    I hold out my hands. “C’mon. We talk about all sorts of stuff.” Then, an idea strikes me. I open the kitchen cupboard, grab a bottle of Patron, and hold it up. “This will help all that shyness.”
    She stares at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m not shy at all.”
    I grab two shot glasses and pour. “Better safe than sorry, Miss Not Shy At All.”
    I hand her one, and she takes it. Then I raise my glass, and the drink goes down the hatch with a burn. She follows suit, swallowing it quickly, then sets her glass down. I do the same.
    I rub my palms together. “Toy confessional time. What have you got?”
    She arches an eyebrow. “Really? You really want to know?”
    I narrow my eyes. “What part of your roommate being a dirty bastard do you not understand? Obviously, I want to know. I’m a guy. This is like Christmas morning. But if this helps . . .”
    I pour two more shots then slide her glass over to her. Once more, we down them.
    She draws a deep breath. “Since you asked . . . I have a few toys. A little silver bullet. A bigger dolphin. And I have a waterproof finger vibrator.”
    And the temperature in me shoots through the roof. I tug at the neck of my shirt. “For the shower?” I croak out.
    â€œSeeing as we don’t have a bathtub, yes, it would have to be for the shower.”
    â€œYou masturbate in the shower?” I ask, and the visual is so fucking clear in my mind—Josie under a hot stream of water that slopes off her breasts, a finger vibrator working between her thighs.
    She nods as she slides the bars onto a cooling rack. Just then I remember she promised me seven-layer bars when she freaked out the other night. And she delivered. Fuck, I think she might be perfect, what with her desserts and her shower hobby.
    â€œWhy do you ask?” she asks in a hyper-innocent voice. Then she clasps her fingers over her mouth. “Are you busy spanking the monkey in your bed while I’m sleeping?”
    I point my thumb at myself. “Shower here, too, baby.”
    She arches an eyebrow. “I guess the shower’s like a good priest. It keeps both our secrets.” She gestures to the bars. “As soon as they cool off you can have one. Now, tell me, do you clean the shower when you’re done?” She winks, grabs the tequila and the shot glasses, and heads to the couch.
    I follow, like the dog that I am. Tongue hanging and panting, just waiting for a crumb to fall.
    â€œI’m the neat one, remember?” I pat the back of the couch. “But I bet you don’t only do-it-yourself in the shower. You probably did it on this couch before I moved in. This is a diddle couch, right? Just admit it.”
    â€œWell . . .” She twirls a strand of hair in her fingers, and takes her time doling out her answer. “I can’t exactly watch porn in the shower.”
    I groan at her admission. The images whip fast and furious in my brain. “This is where you watch porn and get off?”
    She laughs and grabs the bottle, pouring another round. She thrusts a glass at me, and this time we clink. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Yes, I’ve been known to watch porn from time to time.”
    Bringing the glass to her lips, she knocks it back. I match her shot for shot, and the liquor must be loosening