72

I catch Jake glaring at me across the table and stop twisting my hair for the fiftieth time; he’s been touchy this entire trip.

Who would have thought a week’s worth of screwing leggy bimbos actually made him more goddamn sulky?

I thought sex was meant to put men in a great mood, it must have been awful sex.

I look him up and down, trying to appraise that possibility.

I’m sure he couldn’t do bad sex, if I’m being honest. He has more stamina than most humans I know and he’s an attentive man naturally. I wonder if women can make sex shitty, even if they’re being bedded by a “sexpert”. Even though I don’t have carnal knowledge of his bed hopping habits, I am pretty sure his confidence is a great hint that he doesn’t have complaints in the bedroom.

He’s barking orders at his cell and I’m glad it’s not me on the receiving end. Bear with a sore head certainly suits his mood this pa