“Oh,” says Fi in an expansive voice, “I know them well.” She grins, all cheeky, her brows waggling. “They bracket Victory Lane on the road to Cocksville.”

“Yesterday,” I tell her on a sigh, “I ended up staring at a nipple for ten minutes.”

Fi’s chokes out laugh breaks out. “A nipple?”

“Yeah,” I say, despondent. “There was this picture of a shirtless guy in Elle—”

“Oh, a guy’s nipple.”

“Of course a guy’s nipple.” I bite my lower lip. “Although I’d probably get turned on by the sight of a woman’s nipple too. I mean, boobs are sexual and all that.”

Fi mutters something under her breath before glancing at me. “Never figured you’d be the type to get enthralled by a dude’s nipple.”

“Apparently so.” Frowning, I pick at the hem of my shirt. “You know, they’re just so tiny and hard, like those rivets on jeans?” I ignore her snort. “And I wonder how one would feel against my tongue. Would the guy like it if I licked him there? Would he make a little groan—”

“All right there, Little Miss Spanish Fly, I get the picture.”

Sighing, I turned to my side to face her. “Fi, this is serious! It’s a problem. I’m hurting here!”

Her cheeks plump on a grin. “Oh, I hear you, Iv. Though I’d say this is more an issue of being undersexed rather than oversexed.”

“Under, over, the point is I’m horny.”

“Then go out and have some sex, already.”

“I can’t.” It’s a pathetic wail. “I’m not made that way, Fiona. I can’t screw just anyone. I need…”

Damn it all, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My stomach turns with the thought of nameless sex, even as my breath quickens with thought of a hard, male body pressing against me.

“I need to like the guy,” I mumble. That’s the shittiest part about it. I want sex so badly my teeth ache. And yet I don’t have the guts to go out and get it.

“Hmm…” Ice clinks as Fi swirls her glass. “You know who you should talk to about this? Gray.”

“What?” Heat rushes my face. “Please. No.” I wave, my hand nearly slapping my nose in the process. “No way, Fi. Do you want me to die of embarrassment?”

Gray would either smirk and give me the same shit as Fi, or he’d be horrified. Gray has a startling tendency to get prudish on me. God help me if Fi suggests what I think she will. I can’t think about that. I won’t.

“Why not? He knows all about sex. He’s hot as fuck. Maybe he could help you out, give you a little friends-with-benefits relief.” So she went there.

“Fi! How can you say that?”

“Ow! Volume, Ivy. My damn ears are ringing.”

Grinding my teeth as my face bursts into flames, I manage to speak. “I cannot believe you said that.” Did the heat come on or something? I’m going to burn up from embarrassment. Maybe melt into the bed.

“Oh please. He’d do it, you know he would. Everyone knows the guy will do any hot girl that looks his way.”

“Stop,” I snap. “Gray isn’t some cheap manslut.” Never again will I let myself or anyone else belittle him.

“He’s not?” She doesn’t even try to hide her sarcasm.

“No. He’s my friend, and I’ll thank you not to talk about him that way.” I hug my pillow tight. “Never mind that friends-with-bennies has got to be one of the stupidest ideas in history. It never works. Not,” I add, “that I’d even consider it. I don’t…” A breath puffs out of me. “I’m not going there with Gray.”

Just the thought of sex with Gray... Nope, not going to even entertain the idea. Sex with him would only lead to trouble. I’m a relationship gal. And I know it would become too much for me, sharing that sort of intimacy and not having Gray as more than a friend. I cling to that fact like I would a life raft.

Her shrug is careless. “Well, then maybe he can hook you up with one of his hot friends.”

“I’m not having sex with one of Gray’s friends.” Everything within me revolts at the idea. It would ruin what I had with Gray. Wouldn’t it? And besides, I don’t want one of his friends.

“So you don’t want a hookup, or to ask Gray to help you out or set you up.” Fi glares at me. “What do you want?”

An answer pops into my head before my booze-addled brain can squash it down. But I bite my lips together and refuse to say it. Again, the horrible, squirmy, we-need-some-lovin’ heat flares between my legs. “I just want to feel like myself again.”

“Good luck with that. Horny doesn’t just up and go because you ask it nicely.”

“Great.” I lift my hands in irritation. “So I what…?”

Fi laughs at me, the jerk. “Become real familiar with your hand.”

“Pillow,” I correct without thinking.

“What?” Her eyes are wide, her smile scandalized.

“Nothing. I said nothing.” Fucking booze. I’m never drinking again.

“Sure you didn’t, Miss Hump-and-Pump.”

The throw pillow flies out of my hand and whacks her face. “Eew,” Fi shouts. “This had better not be the pillow!”

“Better smell it and see.”