“You haven’t had sex in a month? You?” More like six months, but who’s counting? “Jesus, Bren, you act like I’ve gone without for a year.” “I’d say a month in Rye time is equivalent to a year for others.” Snorting, I roll my eyes. Not that she can see it. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.” Either way, she’s not entirely wrong. I like sex. Scratch that, I love sex. But a man needs a break every now and then. And I haven’t been feeling it lately. Until her. Now, yes, a month waiting for her would sure as hell feel like a year.
