Chapter Eleven #2
I’d do whatever she wanted me to. Would let her do whatever she wanted to me. As far as I was concerned, my body was hers to use. She could chain me up and whip me raw if it brought her pleasure.
The thought sent heat racing to my groin. Through force of will I didn’t know I had, I stayed where I was on the edge of her kitchen.
Talk first.
“Okay,” I said, setting my glass aside and gripping the counter. “Tell me exactly what you want this to be.”
Coming upstairs must have eased some of her anxiety because she answered right away. “I want to know what good sex feels like. And maybe try some things I’ve never done before. To actually see what I like and don’t like instead of guessing or never finding out.”
“You want to explore.”
“Yes.”
“So this would be more than a one-time thing? You’re picturing something ongoing?”
She squirmed on the cushion. “If you’re open to it.” Anticipation pulsed through my body, only curbing when she added, “I mean, not forever. We could set a limit upfront if you want, or just see how it goes. Either way, I’m not expecting anything long-term.”
If she was, I’d be the last person she’d turn to, rightfully so. No matter how much it stung that she knew it.
“And whenever it ends, you still want to be friends?”
“Yes.” Her eyes snapped to mine. “That’s really important to me. I don’t want to do this if you think that won’t be possible.”
It was just as important to me. Over the past two years, she’d become the person I could talk to about anything. The only person I wanted to talk to about most things. Given my current relationship status with my family, she was pretty much the most important person in my life right now.
Which made our friendship the one thing in all of this that made me nervous. “I’ve never done something like this with a friend,” I admitted.
Sex had never carried stakes for me before. Not just because I’d been too selfish to think past what felt good in the moment but because there had never been a relationship beyond it I cared about losing.
Maybe that meant I shouldn’t risk my relationship with Aubrey by bringing sex into the mix, but I wanted it too much to turn her away when she was the one asking.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” she asked.
I knew what I wanted the answer to be. “No. But I think if we’re going to do this, we need ground rules.”
Her shoulders eased. “I think so too.”
Our stares met across the room, and something passed between us in the brief silence. An acknowledgment that we were actually discussing this. Her mouth lifted at the corners.
I swallowed. “Then for starters, no being with anyone else while we do this. For either of us.” Even putting aside the added health risks, I wouldn’t be able to handle the thought of another man’s hands on her while we were together.
I could hardly stand the thought of it happening after we were back to just friends, but that would be a problem for my future self to deal with.
Her eyes flashed with a similar spark of possession that made me want to say fuck it and bury my head between her legs right now. “Agreed.”
“I got tested last year,” I continued. “Everything was negative, and I haven’t been with anyone since.”
“I got tested after Patrick and I broke up, and same. And I still have an IUD, but I’d rather use condoms anyway if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course.” Whatever would make her most comfortable. God knew I wasn’t qualified to be a father.
“Also, maybe we don’t tell Evan,” she added. “There’s enough going on between you two as is, and I don’t want this to make everything worse.”
“You sure?” It wasn’t like he gave me many opportunities to talk to him. This would affect her relationship with him more than mine.
But she nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Then we won’t tell him.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
I abandoned the safety of the counter and rounded the coffee table to join her on the couch, leaving a good six inches between us. I did it partly for my own control and partly to make sure she didn’t feel pressured now that we’d agreed to do this.
“Tell me what wasn’t good for you about sex with your ex.”
She dropped her chin, fingers running through the fibers of the pillow as if she wasn’t sure how to answer.
“It wasn’t anything specific,” she said.
“He did all the right things and touched all the right places. We used lube so there wasn’t friction.
It just never really felt like anything.
Not in a numb way. I mean, I could feel stuff.
It just didn’t feel particularly good. Sometimes it hurt. ”
I tensed.
“Not because of Patrick,” she hurried to clarify. “He was never careless or rough or anything. He did his best to help me enjoy it.”
My muscles relaxed a little. “Did you tell him when it hurt?”
Her cheeks went red. “Not after the first couple of times. Mostly because it wasn’t anything he did wrong. I just could never…get ready enough. And that made me nervous about the next time, which pretty much made it impossible to relax…”
“Which didn’t help it feel any better.”
She released a frustrated breath. “Yeah.”
No wonder she’d never tried sleeping with anyone else.
She wasn’t just nervous about pain; she probably expected it.
A concern I’d never had to worry about as a guy.
Even the worst sex I’d had still felt good.
I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to carry around not just the possibility but the likelihood it wouldn’t.
The need to give her everything she wanted from this solidified in me like a steel fucking wall. At the very least, she’d know sex didn’t have to hurt.
Hopefully, that we were having this conversation right now meant she was comfortable enough with me for that not to be an issue. And if getting aroused was the problem, our New Year’s kiss sure suggested I turned her on just fine.
What we needed was to get her out of her head.
“Was there anything you liked?” I asked. “Anything that always felt good for you?” Starting in her comfort zone seemed like the best way to ease her into more.
She glanced at my lips. “I…liked kissing.”
“Yeah?” I liked kissing her too. A lot. Enough to have me stiffening against my zipper just remembering it. “What about oral?”
Her blush returned as she looked away, and I knew what was coming before she even said it. “Patrick did it once.”
“Only once?”
She nodded at the pillow. “I could tell he didn’t like it, so I felt weird asking again.”
My nostrils flared at the self-consciousness in her tone, the embarrassment that told me she believed it was her fault, like she’d somehow done something wrong.
“Did he ask you to go down on him?”
“I volunteered a few times, but we mostly skipped oral altogether.”
Right. That wouldn’t be happening here. Her ex might have hated giving oral, or maybe he’d been nervous about it. Either way, I didn’t have that problem. I’d be more than happy to give her what she’d missed.
In fact, my new mission was to take every disappointing experience she’d had with sex and replace it with one a hundred times better.
“You want to find out if you like it?”
An edge of excitement lit her eyes. She tried to contain it as she nodded.
“Good, because I fucking love giving oral.” I wanted no question in her mind when I went down on her that it was exactly where I wanted to be. Just thinking of giving her a taste of it, of getting my first taste of her, had my skin going hot beneath my shirt. “What else do you like?”
She swallowed, her eyes going hazy like she was remembering something. “I like when you touch me.”
Had I touched her? Barely. Light nudges and accidental grazes. The occasional hug.
New Year’s.
My hands had been all over her then.
I wanted them all over her now. My voice came out low. “You want me to touch you?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
Something shifted in the energy around us, the air growing thick.
My eyes traveled the length of her, along the ink flowers winding up her legs and disappearing under the short hem of that goddamn dress.
Her chest rose on a deep breath, drawing my stare to the swell of her breasts and the faint points of her nipples peeking through.
“Gabe?”
I lifted my gaze, breath catching at how fucking gorgeous she was.
“Can we start tonight?”
I was fully hard again. My hands nearly shot across the couch of their own free will. I blew out a slow, steadying breath. “One more thing first.”
Her gaze held mine, her hazel eyes dark pools reflecting the glowing lights. My skin buzzed, and I shifted in my seat, not used to her seeing so much. To her being able to read my body in addition to my words.
I might not have liked it, except I got to see as much of her. To catch the lift of her lips as she studied me. To witness rather than imagine if I made her blush or laugh. It helped me voice my last condition.
“You’re the one in control,” I said. “You take the lead and set the pace. You tell me what you want, what you like, what you don’t. You tell me when you’re done. No hard feelings, no awkwardness after. Just be open with me. I need that.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take the lead.
It was that with her, I knew I’d take too much.
There was no way for me not to be selfish with her or to not always want more when I shouldn’t have even taken what she’d already given me.
I needed the scales to stay in her favor if I had any hope of not hating myself when this was over.
More than I already did.
Instead of saying anything, she moved the pillow from her lap and scooted my way, her initiative easing my own tight nerves. Her thigh brushed along mine, and we both seemed to still at the contact.
Not accidental. Not fleeting.
A precursor to every touch that would follow, and neither of us had to pretend we didn’t want it.
She released a shaky breath as she met my gaze. “Now what?”