Page 64 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Without a word, Henry rolled over, propped one hand under his head and lifted the covers, inviting me in. There was no need to think about it, cuddled next to him was where I needed to be.
I snuggled in and placed my head against his bare chest, something very familiar to me. During college, sometimes I went to his bedroom to snuggle when I was feeling lonely or having a bad day. He would stroke my hair and talk to me quietly until I fell asleep. And thankfully, he didn’t fail me with the same kindness tonight.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice now light, rather than angry.
“I don’t even know if I can tell you. It’s too humiliating.”
“Can’t be that bad, I heard you giggling in the bathroom.”
“You heard that?”
“Yeah,” he said while kissing the top of my head. “I was going to check on you, but when I heard you laughing I assumed you were fine.”
“Not really fine, not at all. When I was in the bathroom, I was just thinking about how ridiculously insane my night was.”
“Does this have anything to do with that crushed up penis picture in your room?”
“Oh God, I forgot about that.” I covered my face. “Yes, it has everything to do with that.”
“Alejandro wasn’t the man you were expecting him to be?”
“He was at first. We had such a good dinner, and he wasn’t lying when he said those tacos were amazing. Their margaritas were even better.”
“You drank? Did you get drunk?”
His hand combed through my hair, helping me relax into his chest, and God, I loved these moments with him. Beyond all the teasing—and recent inuendo—this was the best part of our friendship. Complete comfort.
“I only had one, but it was really strong. I mean, really strong. Next thing I knew, I was in his loft, looking at his art, which can I tell you was naked women in all different shapes and sizes. I saw so many different variations of nipples that I feel like I have a nipple fixation now. I need to see all nipples and study them.”
“How do my nipples compare?” Henry joked while puffing his chest.
“Well, they’re not green.”
“You saw green nipples?”
“Yes, and green vaginas, but that’s beside the point. So, he says to me, ‘Do you want to see my self-portrait?’” I used the best Spanish accent I had, making Henry chuckle. “So of course, being the polite person I was, I said yes. But Henry, these weren’t self-portraits.”
“What were they?”
“They were portraits . . . of his penis.”
A deep laugh bubbled up through Henry’s chest. My hand that was resting above his heart reaped the benefits of the delicious rumble.
“No way. He paints his dick? And keeps them? Is that what that picture is?”
“Yes, a little memento from the night. I accidently stepped on it and stole the hideous thing during my attempt to flee his apartment as quickly as possible.”
“Why were you fleeing his apartment?”
This was the part I didn’t want to discuss, but knowing Henry, he’d get it out of me at some point, so might as well divulge in the dark where I couldn’t see his full reaction.
“Okay, you have to promise me you won’t tell Delaney, because I don’t think she’d ever let me live it down.”
“I promise.” He kissed my forehead. “Your secret is safe with me, love.”One of the reasons why I love this man so much.
“Okay,” I let out a deep sigh, “well, he, uh . . . decided to show me the real thing.”
“The real thing?”
