“Tell me again why doing the nasty would be a bad idea?” Hayden asks.

I force myself to focus, setting the cucumber onto the wood chopping block and starting to cut it into neat slices. “Because. You’re a man-whore jerkoff. And I’m pretty sure my vagina fell off after my last disaster of a relationship.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” He turns to me with a look of concern. “Let me check things out for you down there. You know, just to make sure you’re healthy.”

I hold up my hand, the one with the chef’s knife, and he takes an uneasy step back. “I agreed to dinner, not a vagina inspection,” I remind him. I’m flushed and too warm, and hoping he doesn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck. One of us has to be the strong one here.

“Fine, have it your way.” He sounds genuinely disappointed, even though I thought our banter was just a little lighthearted fun.

Taking a deep breath, I continue my work as I remind myself of all the reasons Hayden and I can’t go fuck like rabbits in his bed right now. Because, holy hell . . . the sight of him adjusting his hardening cock? My panties are damp and sticking to me right now. It’s fucking distracting. I inhale deeply again, trying to clear my head like we do in yoga, but this time it fails to work. What have I gotten myself into?