Chapter 6 #3
“I think,” I said carefully, “that I’m glad you’re here. Safe and warm.”
“See?” She smiled, that soft expression that made it hard to breathe. “Romantic. Whether you meant it that way or not.”
She shifted, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The movement made the blanket slip off one shoulder, and she tugged it back up absently.
I found myself leaning forward, settling my elbows on my knees, drawn toward her without consciously deciding to move.
“Speaking of romance,” she said, tilting her head to study me. “The other night, you mentioned you hadn’t been on a date in years that wasn’t a setup.”
I felt my shoulders tense, every instinct telling me to deflect or change the subject. But I stayed still and held her gaze. I knew her story—the canceled wedding, the humiliation that followed, the year that had dismantled her life. She deserved to know mine.
“That’s … true.” Both the fact that I’d said it, and the fact that I hadn’t had a relationship in more than a decade.
“Why is that?” she asked, her tone blatantly curious.
I ran a hand through my hair, gripping it at the roots before letting it go and dropping my hand back down to rest on my thigh.
“I’ve never been good with women. Or with people in general, really.
Connecting with others has always been hard for me.
I can do networking and professional relationships, but anything deeper than that … ”
I trailed off, my fingers tapping against my leg as I searched for the words to adequately describe who I fundamentally was as a person without scaring her off.
“Deeper can be daunting,” Holly supplied.
The ease with which she understood—the way she could take all my tangled, complicated feelings and distill them into four simple words—made something loosen in my chest. Most people didn’t get it. Didn’t get me. But Holly did.
“Yes, exactly. Dating requires depth, and vulnerability, and emotional availability, and all these things that don’t come naturally to me.”
“What about outside of those setups? What have your relationships been like?”
My hand went to the back of my neck, gripping it. “Relationship. Singular. I only ever dated one person seriously.”
Holly tilted her head, and I watched something click into place behind her eyes. “It wasn’t good, was it? That relationship.”
I released my grip on my neck and let my hands fall between my knees, fingers lacing together.
“Looking back, I can see that it was toxic. But at the time, I was just so grateful to have a girlfriend at all that it never occurred to me to want something better for myself.”
Holly shifted on the floor, criss-crossing her legs, her expression open and attentive. “How long were you together?”
“Three years in college, and a year after.”
She blew out a long, slow breath. “That’s a long time.”
I picked at a loose thread on my sofa, needing somewhere to direct my nervous energy.
“Long enough that I convinced myself that relationships were supposed to be hard, that I was supposed to feel like I was constantly failing at being a good partner.” I looked at her. “I was young and stupid and desperate to be wanted.”
Holly’s expression softened. “You weren’t stupid. You were human, looking for connection.”
“Maybe. But I definitely could have made better choices.”
“But isn’t that what being young is for? Making terrible choices and learning from them?" She smiled wryly. “I, for example, got engaged to a man who left me on our wedding day for someone who was in elementary school when he graduated from high school.”
I found myself smiling despite the heaviness of the conversation. “Fair point.”
“So what finally happened with your ex? Not to be too nosy, but how did you finally walk away?”
“I didn’t; she did.” I paused, feeling the old shame creep up. “She had a lot of complaints about me, some of them justified. But the one that stuck was that …”
My mouth went dry. This was it—the moment where I told the woman I desperately wanted to sleep with that I was, according to my only sexual partner, a huge fucking disappointment. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to stop speaking, to deflect, or change the subject.
But I’d driven across town in an ice storm for her. I’d imagined her staying in my house permanently. If this was going anywhere—and God, I desperately wanted it to—she deserved to know what she was getting into.
I forced myself to meet her eyes.
“She, um … she said I was bad in bed.”
The confession hung between us.
Holly’s eyebrows shot up. “She actually said that? After four years?”
“Among other things. But yeah, that was the big one.”
I held her gaze, refusing to look away even though every instinct screamed at me to. “I know we haven’t even gone on our first date yet,” I continued. “But in the spirit of full disclosure, you should probably know that.”
My hands moved as I spoke, and I slipped into that mode I got into sometimes when I was nervous—the one where I treated everything like a presentation, like if I just laid out all the data points clearly enough, the conclusion would be obvious and acceptable.
“But if being physical with me is something you’re considering, I want you to know that I’ve taken the criticism seriously.
I’ve done my research. A lot of research.
I’ve read books about female anatomy and pleasure.
Articles about communication during sex.
I’ve watched female-centric porn to understand what women actually enjoy versus what mainstream porn presents.
I’ve learned about the clitoral network and the importance of foreplay and the fact that most women need more than just penetration to orgasm. ”
I was talking too fast now, my words tumbling out in that way they did when I completely lost my filter.
“I’ve studied different techniques and positions.
I’ve learned about the importance of checking in with your partner, of paying attention to their responses.
I know that enthusiasm and attentiveness matter more than experience, and I’m very enthusiastic, Holly.
Very attentive. I've essentially turned this into a project, and you know how I am with projects. I don’t do anything halfway. ”
I took a breath and barreled on.
“So what I’m saying is, I know I fucked it up before, but I’ve promised myself that the next time I’m with someone, she’s going to say it was the best damn sex of her life.
Because I’m going to make sure it is. I’m going to focus entirely on her pleasure.
I’m going to learn what she likes and give her exactly that. I’m going to—”
I only paused when Holly made a sound—small and breathy and unmistakably aroused.
Her cheeks were flushed, but not from the fire. This was a different kind of flush. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and her lips were parted, and her eyes were—
Oh.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are you turned on?”
Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck. “I—that’s—you can’t just—”
“You are,” I said, leaning forward. “You’re turned on right now.”
“It’s been a long time,” she said, her voice slightly strangled.
“And dirty talk has always been one of my triggers, okay? So when you start going on about how you're going to focus on a woman’s pleasure and learn what she likes and—” She broke off, pressing her hands to her cheeks and shaking her head. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“Wait,” I said, blinking in surprise. “That was dirty talk?”
“From where I’m sitting? Yes, absolutely.”
“But I was just explaining my research.”
“Luke.” She dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “You essentially just told me you’ve spent years preparing to blow a woman’s mind in bed. That you’ve studied how to make women come. That you’re enthusiastic and attentive, and you’d focus entirely on my pleasure. How is that not dirty talk?”
When she put it that way …
“I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”
“Well, do.” She was still flushed, still breathing fast. “Because that was possibly the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and you didn’t even mean to, which makes it even hotter somehow.”
My brain was struggling to catch up. “You liked it?”
“I really did.”
We stared at each other across the space between the couch and the floor. The fire crackled. The house creaked. And something in the air shifted.
I felt a smile spread across my face. “So if I were to tell you all the things I’ve imagined doing specifically to you, you’d be into that?”
Holly’s tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “Honestly? I think I’d rather you show me.”
My cock went immediately hard, and my brain stopped processing anything beyond those five words as the world narrowed down to her face, her eyes, and the way she was looking at me. “You want me to fuck you, Holly Bascombe?”
She held my gaze, her chin lifting slightly. “I really fucking do.”