“So, Sam, how old were you when you lost your virginity?”

He barked out a laugh and turned to look at me. His dark eyes shone with amusement. “I think it’s been a decade since anyone asked me that question. Why do you want to know?” He went up on an elbow where he lay on the bed next to me.

“Just trying to figure out how many years you’ve been honing your skills.” I grinned at him. God, laying around in bed with this man felt utterly indulgent.

“Oh, in that case, I was sixteen. But rest assured, I was entirely unskilled. I believe the whole thing lasted about fifteen seconds.”

I covered my mouth but failed to hold in my laugh.

“Well, when you’ve been obsessing over something twenty-four hours a day for about three years, overexcitement is bound to take its toll.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That poor girl. Who was she?”

Sam answered without hesitation, “Angelica Ramirez. She was the older sister of a buddy of mine. Angie was kind of known for … um … relieving neighborhood boys of their pesky virginity. I believe she knew what to expect.”

I stifled another laugh and bit my lip. What in the world had Angelica been thinking?

“Okay, so how about you, since we’re on the topic?”

I shook my head.

Sam gave me a look. “Nope. I told you mine; you have to tell me yours.”

I covered my face with a pillow and he immediately pried it off, shifting himself to hover over me. “Spill it, Ms. Watson.”

I sighed, refusing to meet his eyes as I spoke. “Fine, you already know my first time was with Mike, my ex. I was twenty-one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” I tried to shove him off me but he didn’t budge.

“I knew it.” His voice was almost smug, and I glared at him.

“You knew what, Officer Smartass?”

He scowled but otherwise ignored my comment.

“I knew you weren’t that kind of girl.”

I gasped. “What does that even mean, ‘that kind of girl’?”

He just barreled on. “How long did you date your ex before he got in your pants?”

Ah, the elderly sailor was back. I smacked his arm.

“Almost three years,” I reluctantly admitted.

“And were you or were you not engaged at the time?” Jesus Christ. Was I being interrogated?

“No!” I answered too quickly. He narrowed his eyes at me. Shit, he was good at this cop stuff. “Fine. I had a promise ring. Mike didn’t have the money for the real thing yet,” I admitted.

“See. Not that kind of girl,” he proclaimed as if he’d just won an argument.

I couldn’t help but stare at him as if he were an alien from deep space. “Wait, so if I had had sex with Mike a week after meeting him, what kind of girl would that make me?”

“That’s a moot point because you didn’t.”

My jaw dropped. “Might I remind you, I’ve known you for all of two weeks and I’m in bed with you right now!”

“That’s different.” He shrugged.

The nerve! I tried to get up again and this time he moved to the side of the bed, allowing me to sit up. “How is it different?”

“I can’t tell you that right now.” He pulled on his boxer briefs, casual as can be. I tried and failed to ignore his ass.

I threw my hands out. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

He turned back to look at me. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

Had he suffered a head injury? “Sam!” He ignored me and stood up, naked apart from his boxers.

“You’re not getting away with this,” I warned, pulling on my own panties and reaching for a shirt.

“Away with what?”

I yelped as he grabbed me in a fireman’s hold and stalked toward the kitchen. I dropped the shirt in my surprise, so I was only in my underwear and nothing else. He set my butt down on the island. The granite was cold on my bare legs, causing me to suck in a breath.

“I’m making you my famous omelet,” Sam declared.

I crossed my arms over my breasts and gave him a dirty look, which he completely ignored. Famous omelet, my ass. Ten bucks said he was making scrambled eggs.

“You’ll love it.” He began rooting through my cupboards until he found a pan he liked. Then he set to work whipping up eggs and throwing a bunch of stuff in the pan. Hmm, perhaps I spoke too soon. My kitchen was starting to smell heavenly. I remained silent in protest, but my stomach growled despite my pique.

When Sam snuck a quick glance at me and grinned, I had to speak. “How is it that you can have sex at sixteen with some random girl and it’s no big deal, but if I had done the same thing, you would have called me a slut.”

He stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “I never said that.” His tone was firm.

“What else could you have possibly meant by ‘that kind of girl’?” My arms flew out to my sides and then I quickly brought them back to cover my nakedness again.

Sam sighed. Then he divided the huge omelet he’d made onto two plates and approached the island. He set the plates down and maneuvered himself so he was standing between my thighs. I wouldn’t look at him.

“To some people, sex is just sex.” He shrugged. “It’s a physical act that requires no emotional connection.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” My gaze met his by mistake.

“Absolutely nothing.” He shook his head. I was so confused, but he continued before I could respond, “Unless one of the people does require an emotional connection.”

Okay, this was baffling. Was he insinuating that one of us was injecting emotion into this affair? And was he saying I was that person or he was that person? I shook my head and Sam handed me a plate. “Eat up. I’m not done with you yet.” He winked at me and headed back to grab two forks. He handed me one and seated himself on a barstool next to where I remained perched on the island.

I knew this deserved further discussion—that I should demand some kind of explanation for his bizarre statements. But, instead, I picked up my fork and ate my delicious omelet. And then, despite a warning voice in the very back of my head, I let Sam take me back to bed.

* * *

“Oh! Get these!” Jill held up a pair of panties smaller than anything Barbie owned.

I wrinkled my nose at her. “Ugh. No way. I hate thongs. I always feel like I have a permanent wedgie.” I sifted through another rack while Jill put a hand to her hip.

“Oh, come on sis, you’ve still got a perky ass—you may as well let it shine.”

My lip curled. “You let your ass shine. Mine wants to hide under at least a couple inches of fabric.”

“Fine.” She huffed and produced another pair. “What about these?”

Now she was talking. Delicate red lace formed a wide band around the top, and the rest was a racier cut than my usual panties, but that was okay. I needed a sexy pair of red lace panties to go along with my sexcation. (Hey, if Valley could make up Mommycation, I could make up my own shit too.)

“Perfect.” I ran the lace between my fingers and knew it would do the trick. If Sam wanted red lace panties, who was I to say no? “Now to find the matching bra.”

Jill grabbed me in an unexpected hug. “I’m so happy you’re finally getting some!” She squeezed me harder and I smiled apologetically to the two women attempting to make their way around us. Jill finally released me and pulled back with her hands holding mine. “And can I just say, well done.” She tilted her head and winked. “Officer Hottie gets my seal of approval.”

“Thanks. I think.” I laughed at her.

“But, seriously. You’re totally glowing. Have you seen yourself?”

I had seen myself, and she was right. I was infused with some kind of orgasmically-induced endorphin cocktail that made me look and feel like a freaking teenager—but without all the angst.

“I know. It’s like Sam found some switch and turned it on.” I pulled my hands from Jill’s and turned to the display of bras.

“Just for future reference, it’s called the G-spot, Jenna.”

Two girls standing near us giggled and I shot Jill a withering glance. “Thanks, Professor Kinsey.”

“Always here to help.” She smiled.

We found the matching bra and pulled two sizes for me to try on. Jill stood outside the dressing room door while I stripped off my shirt and bra and tried on the first one.

“So, have you asked him at all about Emberly Peters?” Jill was referring to Sam’s ex-girlfriend Sofia had told me about. “I saw her on Channel 6 the other day. Girl needs to ditch the ombre effect—it’s definitely past its prime.”

“Says the woman who helped me dye a hideous neon stripe in my hair.”

“Hey, I was only doing what you asked! And you didn’t answer my question.”

I fixed the bra’s clasp in place behind my back. “No, I haven’t asked him. It’s not really relevant.”

“What do you mean it’s not relevant. I’ve quizzed Hank about all his exes.”

“That’s because you’re a glutton for punishment and a downright nosy bitch.” What? It was so true.

“Meh. I guess. But aren’t you curious?”

“I don’t know.” Total lie. I was curious—very much so. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But it really was pointless. I didn’t need to know about Sam’s past and he didn’t need to know about mine. All we were doing was having a short-term affair and then calling it a day.

Although, I admit, it did feel strange to be so intimate with another person in one respect while maintaining a distance in other areas. I mean, it wasn’t as if Sam and I didn’t talk, but we generally avoided any loaded topics. And exes were a heavily loaded topic.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.

“Well, if you ask me, I’ve always thought she seemed like a snob. And you’re a lot prettier than her too.”

I grinned at Jill’s comment, even though she couldn’t see me. With the bra straps adjusted, I assessed myself in the mirror. The bra fit well, and it was definitely sexier than anything I had in my closet. In fact, if I leaned forward too far, my boobs might be in danger of spilling out. But it was cute and I knew Sam would love it. And even better, it made me feel pretty.

I opened the door a crack to show Jill. “Thanks for the compliment, but how in the world could you possibly tell if Emberly was a snob?”

She gave me a nod of approval on the bra and I closed the door again. “I don’t know. It’s the way she reports things—she can be so … patronizing.”

I’ll admit, I’d never paid much attention to the local newscaster, but it was silly of Jill to be comparing me to this woman.

I finished changing back into my clothes and exited the changing room. Jill was swiping at her phone.

“Sending hate mail to Channel 6?” I asked. “Come on. Let’s go check out.”