Houseguests

‘A man can always tell,’ Conor said. ‘You should’ve seen the way she looks at me when we are in bed.’ ‘No thanks,’ I said firmly. He chuckled. ‘Anyway, Eimile’s…What’s something you have to do but don’t want to?’ ‘Um, visiting the dentist?’ He tapped a finger in the air in my direction. ‘Exactly.’ I winced in commiseration. ‘That bad, huh?’ ‘No, it’s like…’ Conor puffed out his cheeks, blew out a long breath. ‘It’s not like she hates the sex. I can give her multiple orgasms, no problem. She’s always up for a roll in the sack, but—’ I grimaced again, this time not in commiseration. ‘Jeez, Conor, too much information.’ He shot me a look. ‘You asked.’ ‘Not about how much you rock in bed.’ ‘Fine. Then I’ll just say this—she doesn’t love me. Hell, she doesn’t even like me. How much are you willing to bet that if I drop dead this instant, she won’t even shed a tear? Heck, she’ll probably step right over my corpse before it’s even cold.’ Though I hated to admit it, that did sound like the Eim