And every par
t of me is dying to know how that is possible.
Fuck me.
Mya
Considering how many things have gone wrong tonight, you’d think it couldn’t get much worse. But apparently we haven’t reached our quota on weirdness for the night. Standing in a hotel room alone with Milo while he talks about screaming during sex takes it to a whole different level.
Especially since the way he’s watching me makes me feel he’s not going to just let this go.
“Have you?” he presses again, his eyes locked on mine.
Which is not happening. I’m not talking about orgasms while he stares at me like that. Just not doing it.
“I’m hardly a virgin, Milo.”
His face twists into a grimace. “Jesus, don’t say that.”
“What? I just said–“
“What you said was a bullshit attempt to deflect and not answer. Which tells me everything I need to know.” He runs his hands through his hair looking pissed off. Which makes no sense to me.
“How did we go from discussing your bad behavior at dinner to talking about my love life?” My non-existent love life, I think ruefully.
A guy like Milo probably goes through women like underwear. What would he say if he knew it’s been six months since I’ve been laid?
Or kissed. Or hugged. Or touched.
Great, now he’s got me thinking about how pathetic I am.
“I’m just trying to understand what the fuck is happening in the world that a woman like you is having bad sex. Any man lucky enough to see you naked should be putting in the work to take you to O-town every time.”
Something in my expression must tip him off because suddenly he stops pacing and stares at me. “Mya, you’ve had an orgasm before, haven’t you?”
Now we’ve crossed the line from inappropriate to just straight-up embarrassing.
“Of course I have. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He still looks disturbed but at least he’s no longer looking at me like some kind of space alien. Which is why I have no idea what possesses me to say what I do next.
“Just not while anyone else is there,” I mumble softly.
“Fuck me!” he explodes before whirling around to blink at me in disbelief. His mouth opens and closes several times before he makes a strangled growling sound that has me going instantly wet. “Fucking hell.”
“Fucking isn’t the problem,” I snap, mortification at what I’ve admitted starting to sink in.
Of all the people I could have confided in, why would I tell Milo? For years it’s been my secret shame and the real reason my ex didn’t want to “settle” with me. I’ve read every Cosmo article, tried yoga and hypnosis and even those weird-ass positions in the illustrated Kama Sutra I ordered online. William was so offended when I suggested using a vibrator in bed and he didn’t even seem to like when I touched myself.
Maybe that was the problem. It all felt like work instead of fun. And right now, it just feels like one more way I don’t measure up. Especially with the way Milo is looking at me.
“You know what? I’m done talking about this. This has been a long night and we’re probably both going to be out of a job tomorrow once James sobers up and comes to his senses. So for now, I’m going to my room to get comfortable.”
He springs forward and grabs my arm. “Wait, Mya. I’m serious about not leaving yet. I’m pretty sure Christiane is staying on this floor. And she seems predisposed to hate us anyway.”
Fed up with being told what to do, I reach behind me and unzip my dress. “I need to get out of this bra before it cuts off my circulation.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting to see what he’ll do.
But he shocks the hell out of me when he calls my bluff. Milo grabs one of the discarded dress shirts from the bed and hands it to me. “Change into this. You can order room service and relax just as easily here as you can in your room.”