Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
cameron
“WHAT YOU NEED TO know?” she echoed while I strode to the refrigerator, grabbing the leftovers of the creamy vodka penne I made last night. “What do you need to know?”
There was a reason we’d needed to slow down, and this was it. I wanted to be careful with Natalie, wanted to make sure I understood her. She deserved that, even if I could tell she was impatient right now.
“I assume you’re still on birth control,” I started, and she nodded, confirming that thought. “What’s your stance on condoms?”
She crossed her ankles, staring at them for a second. “I would prefer to use a condom, especially if you haven’t been tested in a while.”
“I have been tested since my last sexual partner, but I don’t have a problem with using condoms,” I said, looking at her and hoping she would look up so I could get a better read on her expression.
But all I could see was the slight furrow of her brow, a touch of curiosity, before she opened her mouth.
“When—” she started and then snapped her mouth shut again.
I had no problem sharing, though. “About nine months ago.”
“Nine,” she repeated, seeming surprised. Her head lifted, and she watched my mouth confirm the number.
“Nine.”
No one since you, Sunshine.
She stared at me, and I could see more questions on the tip of her tongue.
“You can ask, Natalie.”
No one owes anyone information about their sexual history, but I wanted Natalie to feel as comfortable with me as possible. I wanted her to know that she could open up to me about her own history if she chose to, and if this made it easier for her to do that, then by all means.
But Natalie shook her head in dismissal of the idea.
“The women you’ve slept with before are none of my business,” she muttered, glancing down at her lap.
“Women and men,” I corrected and then worked on heating the pasta, tossing it in a pan and throwing the burner on. Once that was going, I took out some of the leftover sauce, coating it over the noodles before giving everything a stir.
When I looked back to Natalie, she was watching me carefully.
“Thank you for sharing that,” she said softly and then cocked her head to the side, once again mildly inquisitive but supportive, like she just wanted to know everything about me, about someone’s sexual experience that had been different—and likely better, certainly less traumatic—than her own.
But when she stayed silent, I sighed and asked, “What are you thinking, Natalie?”
“Just that—” She pressed her lips together, a pretty blush coating her cheeks again. “It’s probably unfair of me to ask you not to sleep with any other partners while we’re doing this, but—”
“It’s not unfair of you, and I have no problem with that,” I replied as I stirred the pasta.
Not really a hard ask, considering I hadn’t even so much as thought about another person since the moment I laid my eyes on her.
How could I when she consumed the entirety of my brain, all of it?
Every single day. It was exhausting and exhilarating and also slightly mortifying, if I were honest. “As long as I can ask you the same.”
Maybe I was a selfish ass for not wanting to share her, but I didn’t care.
“Of course,” she assured me, and then gave a little chuckle, like the thought of her sleeping with someone else was humorous, like men wouldn’t be scrambling at the chance.
But I also knew she wasn’t ready to give any of them one.
No, only me.
And I wouldn’t be taking any of that for granted. Not at all.
It was quiet for a minute or two as Natalie watched me finish preparing her food.
She didn’t protest, which told me that maybe she was hungry for more than just sex at the moment, but she did ask if she could help.
More than once. I shook my head each time, wanting her to get used to the idea that when she was with me, she didn’t need to worry about taking care of anything.
She did that enough with the rest of her life.
“Let’s get some food into you,” I murmured, grabbing an empty bowl from the cupboard and filling it up. Natalie eyed me as I prepared it, her lips stretching in a playful grin.
“Are you carb loading me, Cameron?”
I shrugged, stabbing a few pieces of penne with a fork and blowing on them. “Maybe.”
“I think you’re supposed to do that the night before cardio.” Her green eyes glittered. “Not a few minutes before. Don’t want to Michael Scott-it.”
A laugh burst through my lips. “I think you’ll be okay. I don’t have anything too strenuous planned for tonight.”
More curiosity danced across her face, but before she could ask too much, I lifted the fork.
“Open.”
Natalie lifted a brow but did as I directed, letting her lips part.
I stared at them a little too hard, remembering how good they had felt pressed to mine, before sliding the fork into her mouth.
Natalie bit it off, humming her satisfaction and chewing.
Her eyes watched me carefully, and once she swallowed, she said, “This is really good. But you know, I can feed myself.”
“I’m going to make you use your hands later,” I said, lifting the fork again once I’d refilled it. Natalie opened her mouth without me asking her to. “I thought I’d give them a rest for now. I bet they’ve been busy today.”
The corners of her mouth curved as she chewed, her interest and amusement shining through her expression even though she didn’t say anything.
“And I like it,” I said, carefully stabbing more penne. “Feeding you. Do you mind?”
A likely unnecessary question, considering Natalie had already unhinged her jaw for a third time in preparation for more pasta. She shook her head, and I tried to conceal my satisfaction as I slid the fork back into her mouth, watching her tongue dart out, licking it as she took another bite.
“Are you hungry?” she asked after she swallowed.
“Not for food,” I answered, and her entire expression lit up. Ravenous, this one.
Soon, baby.
“I’d like it if you shared more of what you’re looking for,” I continued. “I know you want to experiment with new things. Can you tell me if there’s anything specific you want or maybe something you’ve already done that you want to avoid?”
She shook her head, giving another rueful laugh. “I just want to do something that doesn’t involve getting bent over and used until someone else is satisfied.”
I froze, my hand hovering midair with another forkful of pasta.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah.” Natalie shrugged, as though what she’d just said wasn’t a big deal.
“And I always felt like he did it that way because he wanted to imagine it was…someone else? Like he didn’t want to see my face.
Sometimes it even felt like that when I was on my back.
He’d stare at me, but he wasn’t there. I wasn’t there.
I mean, of course it wasn’t like that at first. But then… well, things changed. You know.”
The fork clattered back into the bowl before I shoved it back onto the countertop.
“Fuck, Natalie.” I put both hands on the granite she sat on, framing her hips, needing to palm something. I hung my head for a second, not sure I wanted her to see how angry that made me. “God, I really hate him and how he treated you.”
“Me too.” She forced out a laugh that had no humor to it.
“And I hate that your bar is so low,” I said, raising my gaze to find hers avoiding me.
I placed a finger beneath her chin, tipping it up so she was forced to see how sure I was that I could change that reality for her.
She looked regretful, sad. Like she knew her bar was that low but also didn’t want to lie about her reality or expectations. “Let’s raise it the fuck up, shall we?”
The spark returned to her face as she gave an eager nod.
“I’d like that.”
Correction: she was going to love it.
I was going to make fucking sure of that.