10. Chapter Ten #2
“Nope. I told my wife she was getting this color. No way was I going down that road. And I don’t have any regrets. I own this look. I’ve made it my own. Did I wish I didn’t have hair that makes me look eighty? Sure.”
Sam smiled. “You don’t look eighty. You don’t have a single wrinkle.”
“Well, that’s not true.”
He drew his finger along my temple. “Okay, maybe when you smile.”
Which elicited a smile from me. “What has you confused?”
After a moment, he swallowed. “I find you attractive. Sexy, even. Like Cole Hamilton to Peter Erickson. But…I don’t want to jump your bones and drag you to bed. I’m…not interested in that.”
“That’s fine. You told me you believe you’re asexual.
Ace. There’s nothing wrong with that.” I needed him to understand.
Or at least to explain what I understood.
“I think you can find someone attractive without wanting to get naked and have sex with them. I mean, I find you attractive. I’m okay if we just hold hands. ”
“You’ll change your mind about that.” His eyes hardened.
I cocked my head. “I think I know myself. Look, I connected with my wife through sex. But we had other ways of being intimate that very much involved being clothed. The sharing of secrets, the knowing looks, the touches—they were all just as powerful. If not more so because we weren’t relying on the physical to convey our feelings. ”
“You said eventually you stopped having sex.”
“Sure. And it’s funny in the sense that I didn’t realize that last time we had sex was going to be the last time.
I think if I’d known then I would’ve, I don’t know, made it more memorable.
In the end, I looked back and thought that was the last time but it had been so long that I couldn’t remember the date.
Hell, I couldn’t even remember the circumstances.
We’d just—” I shrugged. “Like I said—we didn’t really love each other anymore.
Not in the same way as before. The loss of the intimacy hurt more than the end of sex.
” I sighed. “I’m trying to say that sex isn’t everything for me.
And I’m not going to change my mind about that.
I explained that I’ve gone for quite some time without it.
Now, I masturbate. Just keeping it real.
But the driving need to be with someone?
To be inside them? Or to have them inside me? Just not there.”
“Oh.” He bit his lower lip. “I liked when we kissed.”
“Okay.”
“But I know I’m not interested in…doing more.”
“And I’ve said that’s fine.”
He sighed. “I feel like I should try. Maybe I just, I don’t know, need to be in the right mood.”
His words caused my gut to clench. “Are you saying that because you think I want more or because you’re genuinely curious about what more looks like?”
“Yes.”
I chuckled. “Is that a yes to one or both parts of that question?”
He scratched his chin. “Yes, I think you want more and yes, I’m sort of curious but not enough. You know?”
“Yep. I also know our bodies can react in ways that are completely unexpected.” I smiled.
“I was with a guy once who was horny all the time. I mean, he could never get enough. Then, one random day, he couldn’t get an erection.
Like, nothing he did would make him hard.
I had to convince him to wait a day or two before going to the doctor. ”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. He was convinced he was dying or something. The next day he woke up with a wicked case of pneumonia. He nearly wound up in the hospital because he was so sick. Personally, I think his body was telling him, the day before, that it needed to conserve energy for the fight it was about to wage. But what do I know?”
“A lot. You know a lot. About all sorts of things. Things I can’t even imagine. I live in this tiny little world—Quinta, the store, and—” He bit his lower lip. “Yep. That’s about it.”
“That’s a good life, Sam. But yes, expanding your horizons wouldn’t be a bad thing. Does that mean spending more time with me? I certainly hope so. I’m not going to put pressure on you.”
“What if I’m putting it on myself?”
I considered. “Well, I wish you wouldn’t. You’ve got enough going on that worrying about my, uh—” I floundered.
“Sex drive.” Sam. Helpfully.
Or so he thought.
“Sex drive,” I repeated. I thought we’d gone over this, but clearly my words hadn’t sunk in.
“I like you, Sam. I like you a whole hell of a lot. Would I like to hold you in my arms to comfort you when bad stuff happens? Sure. Would I like to be the one you turn to when life gets shitty? Yes to that as well. Those things, though, will only happen if you want them to.”
“A kiss?” He pressed his fingers to his lips.
I gazed into his dark-brown luminous eyes. “If you’d like. But you control it—it’s on your terms. Okay?”
Slowly, he nodded. Then he scooted toward me so our thighs touched.
Wanting more was only natural, but I was happy to keep my libido simmering. Sam’s comfort, and pleasure, were all that mattered. I’d moved too fast at Christmas and it’d taken us five months to get back to a place where he was comfortable.
He moved closer—clearly telegraphing his movements.
I held myself still and waited.
Our lips met.
My heart sang.
All was well.