“I’ll text you my address. Any food allergies?”
“No allergies. As far as the menu goes, I trust you. Nothing thermonuclear hot. Can I bring anything?”
“Yourself, and a bottle of wine. Your choice what kind.” He kisses my hand again, gently squeezes, and then releases it.
I’m already missing his touch.
“Talking.” Not sure if he’s reminding me or himself.
Maybe both.
I nod. “Talking. We do need to…talk.” Heat fills my cheeks again. Is he going to be turned off when he realizes I’m a damn virgin and have…standards?
I mean, okay, yes, if he asked me, I’d hop into bed with him right now.
He takes a step back. “Lock the door and put the security bar in place. I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning.”
“I know trust has to be earned. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn yours. You’ve already earned mine.”
“How do you know I’m someone you can trust? How do you know I’m not a very bad man?”
If only he knew the fantasies rolling through my head. “How do you knowI’mnot?” I ease the door shut and press my eye to the viewfinder to watch him. He’s wearing a sexy, satisfied smile as he turns and I watch that perfect ass of his stroll down the hall toward the elevator.
Fuuuuck.
I rip off my clothes, jump into the shower, and immediately stroke one out. Then I stand there under the spray, hugging myself and wishing I was braver.
Maybe it was stupid of me to wait. There were any number of guys in high school and college who I could’ve crossed that bridge with.
But Mimi was smart. She didn’t shy away from having the talk with me when I was younger. She let me know it was okay to be proud of who I was, of my sexuality, and that I had the right to be choosy. When I started high school, she bought me a couple of sex toys when I started asking more questions. She showed me how to put on a rubber correctly—on atoy, thank you very much.
Ew. Pervs.
Her biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be careful and I’d jump into a relationship that was wrong for me, only to get my heart broken and to regret letting hormones override my common sense.
Or, worse, I’d somehow end up having unsafe sex, or getting myself into a position where I’d fall victim to violence.
She wasn’t a prude, either. It wasn’t that she didn’t want me to have any sex, she just wanted me to be smart and safe about it.
I think that played a big role in me holding out this long. The guys I dated just didn’t… I don’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t the lack of a physical attraction, but I didn’t feel into them enough to give themme.
Sex wasn’t “forbidden” so I didn’t understand the big deal. I could masturbate if I was horny, but I wanted a deeper physical and emotional connection if I was going to be vulnerable enough to show someone what lay under my mask.
Just like I wasn’t into sneaking alcohol. If I wanted to drink a little wine at dinner, I simply asked. Mimi also let me have a few sips of champagne at New Year’s. I was always allowed to do things like that as long as I was honest with her. Her theory was, after her years of experience investigating crimes against children, that she’d rather me know she was a safe resource and have me try stuff like that with her, instead of getting into trouble somewhere else.
Obviously, I never tried drugs. I mean,duh.
The one time I tried cigarettes—ugh. I had talked to Mimi about it in high school. One day, when I came home from school, I found she’d bought a pack and a lighter. She said if I was really curious to go ahead and try them there, with her.
I made it through one and a half puffs, and then nearly threw the lit cigarette at her in my attempt to get it out of my hand. She laughed and tossed the brand-new pack away. I literally felt sick for two days.
To this day, I still don’t understand how people can smoke those nasty things.
In retrospect, I realize she probably researched and found the nastiest-tasting cigarettes she could, but the lesson was embedded in my brain. I still struggle not to gag every time I smell cigarette smoke. If a guy is a smoker, it’s a nonstarter for me.
I’m…trainable.
Which is what I hope Leo will want to do with me.
Train me, that is. He strikes me as an in-charge kind of guy.
A Domly kind of guy.
A man capable of being very, very bad in extremely good ways.
