He’s not tatted like Rebel is, but the few that he does have I love. Intricate designs, a set of scales, and words in another language that I don’t understand but have been wanting to ask about.
It’s an act of rebellion, a sign that he cares about more than his career, even if he doesn’t show that side of him to the world. Or maybe that’s just what I’m hoping.
The first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone, teasing just enough dark chest hair to make my thoughts derail into anything but professional.His green eyes are warmer, casual, and it’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t turned on by the fact that he scheduled this appointment with me just because he wanted to spend time with me, even if that means he lied.
Get it together, Rhiannon.
You’ve seen what he looks like before. This isn’t new. You can keep the tension under control.
Except... maybe that’s the problem. The tension feels unbearable because I know what’s underneath that expensive suit, and now, I know the kind of man he is. It’s not just because of how he looks, it’s the unspoken questions simmering between us. It’s his comments earlier. That things are different now. That we aren’t just strangers who’ve hooked up a couple times.
That we’ve somehow, accidentally become more.
Is he right? Should I give this thing that’s burning between us a chance?
And why am I even entertaining this littleexercisethat he’s baiting me into instead of shutting this down before it goes any further?
Because the truth is that I like him too and I’m tired of running from that truth.
The memories from the nights that we’ve spent together flash through my mind like a bolt of heat. Cain has never had any trouble getting me exactly where I need him and making sure I come each time. So, hearinghimof all people askmefor pointers? It’s almost laughable.
But I’m a researcher, I have dreams of going back to school for my PhD in Psychology and I’ve never been one to pass up on anopportunity to collect some data. Plus, of all the men that I’ve been with, noneof them have ever asked for feedback on what they’re doing.
Hell, outside of my work as a therapist, no one has ever asked me that question. It might be nice to talk someone through it. Coach them on how they can improve their game.
The smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his lips tells me he’s enjoying this, and maybe I am too. This song and dance. Another game that we’re playing to skirt around the truth. It’s not two lies and a truth, but it could be just as fun.
I clear my throat, forcing a smile while my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I always wondered if I’d find a guy who could meet me where I’m at. Who could meet my level of wild and banter. Who didn’t see my work as a sex therapist as a turn-off, but a turn-on.
Turns out Cain Prescott may be that person.
“What would you like to know?”
Cain rises to his feet, shrugging off his suit jacket with too much sexual energy that makes the room feel ten degrees hotter. His crisp white shirt clings to his broad chest, and those undone buttons draw my eyes to his broad chest.
He tugs the hem from his waistband, leaving it untucked but still on, then sinks back onto the couch beside me.
“What is it that a woman really wants to hear,” he says, his voice deep, “when a man’s face is between her legs?”
His proximity is dizzying. Minty breath brushes my cheek, and I can’t seem to look anywhere but in his hazy, green eyes with dark pupils blown wide.
I clear my throat again, preparing myself to keep this as professional as possible.
“Women, and men, for that matter, ultimately want the same thing from oral sex,” I say, keeping my tone clinical and detached. “Pleasure. They don’t want to feel rushed to finish, and they want the sense that the person giving genuinely enjoys what they’re doing.”
Cain tilts his head, nodding as though I’ve just delivered a lecture worthy of a standing ovation. His gaze burns into mine, and I know without any doubt that he’s no stranger to the art of enjoying giving pleasure. I’ve experienced it firsthand. And right now, I want to experience it again.
Badly.
“Tell me, what exactly would a man need to do to bring a woman to orgasm and show her that he’s enjoying it? To me, it isn’t that difficult to see the beauty of a woman’s pussy. I like how it looks. I like how it smells. And Ilovethe way it tastes.”
Why is him saying pussy such a turn on?
“Well, there’s more to it than just sticking your tongue in the hole and licking back and forth.”
He raises a brow. “Is that how they taught you to talk during sex therapy school?”
I laugh and take a sip of my drink. “It’s a specialty, not a degree. But no, you’re right. Let me back up. The labia majora are the lips that encase the vulva. When turned on, they become engorged with blood. It’s erectile tissue just like the penis is. The labia minora, is the inner most part of the vulva and includes the clitoral hood. When aroused, they can also become engorged with blood, and they protect the clitoris from becoming overstimulated.”
