Rm W/a Vu (36 page)

“So,” he says, “I have to admit, today’s probably the best ‘welcome home’ I’ve ever received.”

“Well, I guess I should be flattered, huh?” Pausing, I look down at the plate of fruit again. “And it was totally worth the wait.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he interjects before dropping his eyes and clearing his throat. I can tell he’s nervous, but I can’t figure out why. It isn’t long before he enlightens me. With a nervous laugh, he swivels his chair until his body faces mine. “Today was…unbelievable, but I think we should talk about your comfort levels. It’s probably a talk we should’ve had before now, if I’m being entirely honest.”

My stomach does about fifty backflips and a flying half twist. Not sure how I should reply, all I can come up with is, “Oh?”

“Earlier, when you confessed to not being particularly fond of oral sex—even though I’d like to think I changed your mind…”He winks, and naturally, my cheeks blaze. “Well, I’d hate to do something that could make you uncomfortable or push you past what you’re ready for.”

I both appreciate and understand his acceptance of my inexperience. While I know that an almost-twenty-one-year-old woman with my sexual rap sheet is definitely a rarity, he has been so gracious and patient with me as we entered this relationship.

“Okay.” I take a drink of water.

Through my periphery, I notice Greyston clasp his hands. “I realize this is an awkward conversation for us to be having, but given everything you’ve told me about your past with Ben, I think it would be best to put it all out there.”

I smirk. “Are you saying there are things you’re not comfortable with sexually?”

Silent for a moment before he laughs, he says, “I suppose there are, but probably not as many as you’d think.”

My mouth falls open, and my eyes widen. I can’t stop the images of Greyston in every sexual situation imaginable from running through my head—it’s not just whips and chains, either. “Like what?” I ask, unable to keep the question from coming out.

“We’ll get to that. But first, I’d like to know where you’re at.”

I pick my jaw up off the floor and shake the filthy slideshow from my head. “So, what? You want to know positions and stuff that I like?”

“For starters.” He shrugs. “But also other things… Like role playing, light bondage, and other taboo things.”

My eyes widen again, this time more than before. “You mean like S and M?”

“Oh,
god
,
no… Of course, I’m not saying I would be opposed to tying you to my bedframe with one of my ties—or you tying me to the bed, for that matter—if that’s something you’re eventually comfortable with. But, you know, stuff like that.”

Knowing he’s not into the darker side of sexual gratification—hey, I might not engage in it, but I’ve read about it—I relax. “Um, I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t really given much thought to it before. It might be fun, I suppose. But not right away, right?”

He places a hand over one of mine, smiling reassuringly. “Of course not. I just thought it might be a good idea to lay it all out on the table so I don’t do something in the heat of the moment that might freak you out.”

I know it shouldn’t be, because Greyston has never judged me for my choices or lack of experience, but having this conversation is a little awkward. I hate bringing Ben up in any capacity around him. Maybe it’s because I’m embarrassed that I could be so blind for so long about what kind of person he was or that he was robbing me of actually enjoying sex for the better part of our relationship. Whatever the reason, this conversation isn’t exactly easy, but I cooperate, because it is important.

“Well, I guess I’m not sure if anything makes me
overly
nervous. I mean, it’s not like Ben was too concerned with making sex about me.” I pause, suddenly remembering something Ben had been pushing for more recently. I reach for some honeydew and stare at it for a second. “One thing Ben seemed to want to try that I wasn’t so sure about was…um…” I don’t need a mirror to tell me how red my face is; I can feel the flames of hell beneath my skin, reaching all the way to my ears this time.

“Tell me,” he gently urges.

I’m nervous, because what I’m about to confess is quite crass. “Um, anal sex.” My voice is so quiet, even I can barely hear it.

Nodding, Greyston reaches for his glass. “So, you’d like to take that off the table?”

My eyebrows pull together as I watch him take a drink. “You’d like anal on the table?” Greyston chokes and sputters on his water, and I’m horrified when my question actually registers in my brain. “OH, GOD!” I slap my hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry…that’s not what I meant! I just…” I can’t even explain this away. I’m horrified.

Greyston waves his hand and clears his throat. “No need to apologize. It’s my fault. I knew what you meant, but—being a guy—I may have taken it a little too literally.”

Things are awkward between us for a moment—how the hell can they not be? I can’t bring myself to take a breath big enough to fill my lungs, and I’m feeling lightheaded. Greyston turns my chair to face him, and he places his hands along my jaw. “Consider it a non-issue,” he says softly.

I can’t explain it, but just like every time he puts his hands on me, confidence surges through me. I’m not a meek person, by nature, but this—sex—is such a foreign area for me. But Greyston never makes me feel inadequate. Quite the opposite. He makes me feel sexy and beautiful…like I can do anything.

I take a bite of my honeydew. It’s juicier than I’d anticipated, and just as I’m about to lick the drops from my lips, Greyston pulls me to him and kisses me, his tongue sweeping over my lower lip and taking care of the problem for me. Content, I hum as Greyston sits back in his chair, swiping my honeydew from my fingers and eating it.

I narrow my eyes playfully, picking up some cantaloupe and having a bite. Then I smile and hold the remaining half out to him. Instead of taking it from me, he wraps his lips around the orange fruit, his tongue lapping at the juice dripping down my fingers. I try really hard to keep from blacking out and attempt to change the subject. Instead, I yawn. It’s not even that late, and yet I’m completely wiped out.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, covering my mouth.

Smiling his understanding, Greyston holds out the plate, silently offering me the last slice of Honeydew. I decline with the shake of my head, and he slips it into his mouth before putting the plate in the dishwasher. “We should get some sleep.”

“Greyston, it’s barely even eight,” I argue half-heartedly.

“I know, but it’s been a long day. I’m beat from my flight and paintball, and I’m pretty sure my ability to bestow multiple orgasms on you has exhausted you.” He smirks, and I laugh. Loudly. “Besides, I have to be up early to go over Xander’s contracts with him at the office.”

I’m too tired to argue, especially since the thought of falling into a nice warm bed sounds heavenly. Greyston takes my hand and pulls me from my chair and out of the kitchen. Soon we’re in the hall between our rooms, and Greyston turns to me. “Any preference?”

I shake my head. “Not really. As long as there’s a bed.”

Kissing me once, Greyston leads me to his room and ushers me into bed before joining me. Warmth surrounds me as he presses his body to mine, draping his arm over me and holding me close. He presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck before we say our goodnights, and soon we’re both fast asleep.

Greyston leaves before eight in the morning, waking me only long enough to kiss me and tell me he’ll call when he’s on his way home. I promptly fall back asleep, waking a couple hours later refreshed and ready to face the day.

After brushing my teeth and hair, I do a bit of house cleaning. Okay…so it’s not the house, per say, that needs to be cleaned so much as Greyston’s bedroom. Who knew that two people being reunited after only a couple of days could wreak such havoc? At first, I think it’s just our scattered clothes that are the issue, but when I pick up my pants, I find that the lamp on one of the bedside tables had been knocked over and broken. The memory of it falling comes back to me, and I smile.

“Whoops,” I whisper, not really feeling remorse for the fallen accessory. I grab my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and take a picture to send to Greyston. After setting my phone down, I begin carefully picking up shards of glass and ceramic and toss them in my wastebasket.

I abandon the lamp pieces when my phone buzzes on the table, and I literally laugh out loud as I read Greyston’s response.

Falling back onto my heels, I reply, smiling wide the entire time.

Setting my phone on the floor next to me, I pick up a few more pieces before Greyston responds.

I laugh again—really loud and extremely unladylike; it’s probably a good thing I’m completely alone in the house.

I make the bed next, remembering as I smooth the blanket how my hands clutched at it, drawing it toward my body as pleasure vibrated all the way down to my bones. A warm tingle spreads through me, making me shiver. Thinking about how his tongue felt against my heated flesh leaves me somewhat breathless, and I have to shift on my knees to ease the pulsing between my legs that seems to increase with each passing second.

The more I think about the events of yesterday, the more I begin to wonder if Greyston will expect a little reciprocity in that department. It’s not that I’m necessarily
against
the idea, but I’ve never done it—not for lack of Ben trying, mind you. He tried. And he tried. And he
tried
. He even threatened to stop doing me this “favor,” and I had to contain the urge to laugh in his face and tell him I was more than okay with that. Much to my dismay, he didn’t remain true to his word—which actually doesn’t surprise me now; he was probably still holding out hope I’d eventually cave. I still held firm in my decision not to return the “favor,” though, and just wished for our time between the sheets to be over.