He said it like he’d said the rest: in that exasperated tone.
But she couldn’t help noticing something else in there, too.
A hint of pride. A lick of amusement.
And she knew why.
“Oh my god,” she said. “All those romance novels.”
“Most of them are a fucking how to manual. Written by largely women. All you have to do is take note of what they say and then pay a little attention.”
“Pay a little attention to what?”
“Your body language.”
She shook her head, half-laughing and half-awed. “So basically you used your self-defense tricks on me.”
“Of course I did. It’s what Ido. And by the way it’s a lot easier to figure out the next necessary move when it’s something to do with sex.”
“Did you know that I was holding off when I touched myself?”
“I’m gonna pretend that wasn’t a serious question.”
“And when I was—”
“It’salwaysclear to me,” he said, and she believed him.
He was great at seeing right to the heart of her, no question.
The only problem was: he was terrible at doing the same for himself.
He was so terrible that she had to explain, in patient detail. “So if you know every move so well, and are so aware even in the heat of the moment, why are you afraid of being out of control? You clearly never are, at all. Even when you lose it enough to overcome all your reservations and just hurl your mouth at mine, you keep your head enough to scope out exactly what I want. And then you give it to me.”
He went silent after that. Really, really silent.
So silent, that she started to worry.
“Are you...are you okay?” she asked.
And she was glad she did.
He turned to answer her then, gaze rueful. “Fuck,no. I just spent the last minute trying to figure out how to poke a hole in what you just said and there’s fuckingnothing. Goddamn, that shit isairtight. It’s so airtight I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it.”
“Well, that’s the thing about you. You’re good at helping everyone but yourself.
“Oh man, that was even better. That was genius.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate me throwing that back in your face.”
“I really did. It was perfect, just perfect,” he said. Then even better, “You’reperfect.”
Though, she couldn’t quite bask in that last one the way she wanted to.
Instead, she had to go with the obvious.
“Maybe that’s why you don’t want to fuck me.”
“Ah, so now it’s Madonna/Whore?”
