Lily rolled her eyes and tapped at Jonah’s phone. Despite absolute certainty that he was right, Jonah leaned forwards and peered at the screen, watching Lily type Sacha’s name and scroll through the search results.
His heart skipped when her eyes lit up.
She held up the phone. “Is this him?”
Jonah squinted at the screen. The profile avatar was small, but there was no mistaking the chiselled features of the stranger who’d fucked him against his bedroom window. Dressed in a shirt unbuttoned to his chest, Sacha had perfected the look of a man who’d woke up as ridiculously attractive as he’d gone to sleep. And he was smiling in the photograph. Laughing, maybe.Damn, he’s gorgeous.
Lily smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes. I can’t stalk his tweets, though. They’re all in Russian.”
“That’s his first language.”
“Ooooh, does he have an accent?”
“Yeah. It’s sexy as hell, especially when, well. You know.”
“Dirty talk?”
“I think so. It was the right time to be saying something filthy.”
“While you were fucking him?”
“Other way round.”
“Really?” Lily lowered the phone and reached for her glass of Chablis. “You don’t do that very often.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you tell me every sordid detail I ask for.”
“You don’t always ask me that.”
“I don’t need to. Based on past evidence I’m usually confident making an assumption.”
Jonah laughed. “Well, you know what they say about assumptions.”
“I do. And I also know what you say about getting fucked. What was different about this bloke?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. It just happened.”
“Is it going to happen again?”
“You asked that already and I still don’t know the answer.”
“The Russian Twitter account didn’t help?”
“Shockingly no.” Jonah reclaimed his phone and shut down the app, resisting the urge to scroll through any pictures Sacha had posted. His likes and retweets. Any clue to who he actually was. It felt wrong without Sacha’s sardonic smirk for company. Besides, without the context of actual words, what was the point? “I very much doubt it, though. He was pretty clear about second dates.”
“As in?”
“They don’t happen. He’s a one-night kind of guy.”
“But it wasn’t a real date, not officially, at least. Surely he can spare you another one?”
“That’s what you think I should go with when we finally cross paths again?”
Lily sipped her wine. “Sure. Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“He could say no, and then a perfectly good one-night stand would be tainted by rejection.”