“No,” she said.
He started to sit up.
“But I’m not attracted to women in general, either!”
Cary was up on one arm, looking down at her.
“There’s just you, Cary.”
“And Val Kilmer.”
“Only theoretically.”
He dropped to his elbow.
“Practically speaking,” Shiloh said, “I can’t think of anyone but you.”
Cary put his hand around her jaw. He sighed, with his eyebrows together. “We’re not revisiting brass tacks. Not on my account.”
“I might be bad at sex...”
“I know for a fact that you’re not.”
“That was old me,” she said, “virgin me.”
“I reject this at a conceptual level.”
“What concept?”
Cary frowned. His eyes tracked up her face and down again. “Can I kiss you while you do this?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her neck again.
“What do you reject?” she asked.
“The idea that you’re bad at sex—the idea that anyone can be fundamentally bad at sex, especially women.”
Shiloh lifted her head up off the pillow. “Especiallywomen?”
He put his arm around her waist again. “Especially women.”
“That makes it sound like you don’t think women have any sexual agency...”
“I just told you that your only job is to feel good.”
“That’sbreathtakinglysexist, Cary.”
He moved his hand to her ass. He hadn’t stopped kissing her. “Do youwantanother job, Shiloh?”
“Why shouldyougive me a job? Because you’re a man?”
“Because I’m the person you’re having sex with.”
She petted his hair. It was just long enough on top for her to lose her fingers in it. “All right, that’s a good reason. Go ahead.”
“Your job is to tell me to stop,” he said.
