I take a fortifying breath because I’ve come this far and now I have to finish. And oh, my god, why does everything sound sexual to me right now? Has this study morphed my brain so that I’m thinking like a seventh grade boy? I give myself a mental head shake and summon what’s left of the courage that brought me up here tonight. Straightening my spine, I find my voice. “I propose a monogamous, mutually satisfying agreement between us that lasts for the next nine weeks.”
“Sounds sexy,” he deadpans. “Where do I sign?”
I roll my eyes and restrain myself from swatting his chest—his gloriously bare chest. “It’s not a contract. It’s a?—”
“The way you described it, it sure sounds like one,” he says, shrugging, as I do my best not to watch his muscles bunch.
“I just meant that?—”
“Then just say what you mean.”
“I will, if you’d stop interrupting me,” I say, unable to hide my annoyance. However, I’m also unable to come up with the right words for what I want to say, so that takes a little of the punch out of my comeback. And it gives Blue time to interject, yet again.
“You want orgasms,” he states plainly, stretching out his palm and ticking off fingers as he gives me his summary. “And you want me to give them to you for the next, what? Two months, right? During which time, you don’t want either of us to give or receive orgasms from other people. This is for your study, but it also gives you the opportunity to figure out what works and what doesn’t. I’m the perfect candidate because there’s no way you’d ever catch feelings for me, and also because I can do what no other guy ever has.”
His words aren’t smug, but I want to smack him anyway. “How do you do that? How do you know what I’m thinking? We are nothing alike, we have nothing in common, so it makes nosense that you can see inside my freaking mind,” I say, crossing my arms like a petulant child.
Blue’s smile is genuine. “I’m good at reading people because I pay attention to things that other people miss. That’s also why I’m qualified for the job you just offered.”
“The job, yes,” I say, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand and not on the fact that earning one of his smiles feels like a prize. “So, are you up for it? And if you are, we need to figure out what you get out of this, too. I mean, other than?—”
Blue’s eyes narrow in on mine. “I swear to god, if you say sex?—”
“You don’t want to have sex with me?” It’s a strange question to ask, but this is an unorthodox situation.
Blue’s shaking his head, but his eyes are locked on mine, his expression sincere. “Not as part of a study, or a favor, or a job, no. I’m all for orgasm bootcamp, but this is about you, not me. If and when you and I have sex, it will be because you want me—not what I can give you, or do for you, or show you. Not how my hands and mouth and tongue can make you feel, just me.”
His words throw me a little off-balance, or maybe it’s the way his blue eyes are looking right through me. “Okay,” I say, because my brain is a little scrambled and I don’t know how to respond. “But this is a really lopsided situation. You’re giving me a lot, and I’m?—”
For once, I’m not supremely annoyed when he interrupts me. “It’s not lopsided,” he insists. “But if you really want to give me something, I’ll let you.”
“What do you want?” I ask, hating that I sound breathless when I mean to sound wary.
“A chance,” he tells me.
“A chance for what? A relationship? But I thought we weren’t having sex. And I don’t have time for any kind of social life.”
“No,” he answers, shaking his head. “I want a chance to prove I’m not the asshole you think I am. You’re friends with all the guys and I’m public enemy number one, and I get it. I was a dick that first day we met, and I’m sorry. Let me prove to you that I’m a decent person.”
“How will you do that?” I ask. After the words are out of my mouth, I realize how rude I sound, but it’s a legitimate question. Does he want brownie points in exchange for orgasms.
Blue chuckles. “Just hang out with me sometimes. I know my job is making you come, and I’ll get it done, no problem. But maybe let me make you laugh, too? We don’t have to be besties or anything, but I’d like to think that at the end of the nine weeks, you won’t hate me.”
I should deny it, because hate is too strong a word, but I’m not quibbling over semantics. We argue enough, and if this arrangement is going to work, I can’t pick fights, even if they’re small ones. “You have yourself a deal,” I say, holding my hand out like I just agreed to co-sign a car loan or something.
“Great,” he says, smoothly ignoring my outstretched hand as he stands and stretches. “Let’s get started.”
“Now?!”
“Yeah, I mean, check your planner, of course, but isn’t this orgasm time?”
“Technically, yes, but we’ve spent so much time talking that?—”
“My apologies. Next time, I’ll keep my mouth shut unless it’s locked on your pussy, tasting you until you want to come so bad your legs are shaking.”
How does he do that? How does he just blurt out the sexiest things like he’s asking me if I need anything at the grocery store. “I just meant,” I say, taking a measured breath, “that it’s nearly midnight. People are going to start coming back soon, and I don’t want anybody finding out that…you know…”
“That I’m your super secret orgasm delivery boy? In that case, haul that fine ass of yours to your bedroom in a hurry. I’ll be right behind you. I just want to grab some lube.”
