13. Arden
13
ARDEN
I finish my go-out-on-a-limb Riesling, and when Gabe is done with his frame, he strides over and parks himself on the stool next to mine. My stomach flip-flops, and my palms are clammy. I need to make my request soon, otherwise it’ll nag at me all night.
“Hey, East. What’s cooking? Did you save a game for me?”
“Always.” But I don’t want to play a game right now. I want to make my pitch, and I don’t want to wait another second. I’ve been saying the words in my head all day. “But first, do you have a second to chat privately?”
Worry creases his brow. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Absolutely.” I smile, keeping the mood light and easy, or so I hope.
We head to the back room, where filing cabinets line the walls next to a desk stacked with papers. Across from us is a green leather couch. I don’t sit. I don’t want to delay. I swallow, steeling myself as I find my courage and screw it to the sticking point. Like the ladies in the book club. Ask for what you want.
I reach into my bag, take out a book, and show it to him. Though I read several the other night, this one is the closest to what I want.
Fifty Ways to Spice Up Your Love Life .
“Is this for me?” His expression is curious, lips quirked up in a question.
My throat is dry. I shake my head. “It’s for me.”
Confusion flickers across his blue eyes. “Okayyyyy.”
I grip the book hard. “I have this idea that I want to try some spices.”
“Are you seeing someone you want to get spicy with?” It sounds like the words taste like bitter paprika to him.
“No.” This is harder than I thought. Because of what Vanessa said. Because Gabe is so handsome, so kind, so easy that a part of me keeps thinking how much I want to try all these things with him. To feel what might come next after the little shivers up my spine.
Only that’s not what I’m asking.
I don’t want a typical hands-on lesson in seduction. Please. That’d ruin our friendship, and our friendship means the world to me. I simply won’t risk it.
But we don’t need to get naked for me to learn. You don’t practice CPR on a real person. You do it on a dummy. We don’t need to walk the walk.
He can spank me with my jeans on.
He can pull my hair on my front porch.
He can bite my neck without it leading to anything more than information.
Intel.
That way we stay friends.
Besides, he’s not playing the same long game I am. He’s a short-term guy, and I respect that, but I’m a long-term kind of woman.
I dig down deep. “I’d like to ask for your help.” Taking a breath, I pause before I lay it all on the line. “I’m not terribly experienced in the bedroom, but I’m incredibly curious, and I’d really like to know if being tied up, taken over the back of the sofa, stopping for an impromptu hookup while out for a drive, making out in an elevator, or having my hair pulled so hard I see stars is my cup of tea. How would you feel about doing some research with me? Say, over the next week?”