“Oh.” God, it’s hot today. It’s not—the breeze is only getting stronger—but it is.
“But probably, yeah.”
“Really?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just thought… most guys are really into that.”
“You mean your ex?”
No… just things guys say. “He was… too rough.”
He nods with understanding. His expression gets protective. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, not like that. He just… got carried away.”
He pulls me closer.
“I do like it.” My cheeks flush. “Just not… violent.”
His laugh breaks up the tension. “You don’t want to gag on a cock?”
“Oh my God!”
“That’s a fair request.”
I say nothing.
“Has it happened?”
“Yeah… a few times. With… that doesn’t matter” There have only been two guys. But that is not information I need to share. Not at the moment. Not with someone who’s fucked half the women in the city. “Do you do that with your one-night stands?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Never,” he says.
“Why not?”
He steps onto the curb. Pulls off his sunglasses. “Never wanted to.”
“So you don’t…” I try to look him in the eyes, but it’s impossible. “You don’t go down on your one-night stands?”
“I don’t.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“And they—”
“I don’t let them suck me off either.” His voice is matter-of-fact. Like it’s so obvious women want his cock in their mouths.
Not that I—
God, it’s hot in here.
My cheeks flame. “You miss it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You’re that—”
“A woman tugging at my hair as she comes on my face.” His eyes light up. “What’s better than that?”
“Oh, I meant—” I nod to his crotch. “Receiving services.”
“It’s not where my head goes when I fuck myself. But I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No.” His voice is loaded, like he can’t pack how much he likes it into the single syllable. “I like it. But I’d rather give than receive.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“You?”
Uh… No comment. “Is it too personal? Or…” He loves giving head. Loves women coming on his face. Loves… Uh… Must. Change. Subject. “Is that it?” I stop at the red light. Almost there. It’s right across the street.
The wall across from us is adorned with pink roses. And a sign reading I Love You So Matcha.
It’s the perfect place to snap a photo. If I can stop blushing. Or make eye contact with something besides the ground.
“That’s a good way of putting it,” he says.
“So you, uh… what did you want? With your one-night stands? If you didn’t want intimacy?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I focus on the don’t walk sign. “You were the one doing it.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, Skye, I don’t remember. I guess, at the time, it felt like a way to control something. To prove something. To find some piece of me I’d lost.”
“Did it?”
“A little. But, mostly, it was something to do.” He looks down at me. “Mack said something last night.”
“Yeah?”
“That it wasn’t about Diego being better or bigger or kinkier.”
“Did you think it was?”
His brow furrows. “Not exactly.” His eyes fill with vulnerability. “But that had to be a part of it. You don’t start fucking someone else if you’re satisfied.”
Maybe. “Women aren’t like that. There’s a reason Gwen isn’t obsessed with who her ex is screwing.”
“She’s way hotter than him. Honestly, it’s a miracle he ever bagged her.”
Well, yeah. Gwen is a babe. Whereas the ex who inspired Tragic Kingdom is less conventionally attractive.
“The guy must be a fantastic lay to keep her around for so long.”
My laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. “You really think that’s it? That relationships are all about sex?”
“Only sex? No. But that’s a big part of them. That’s one of the things you share. That you don’t give to anyone else.” The light turns green. He takes my hand, pulls me across the street, leads me into the matcha shop.
It’s quiet. Clean. Air-conditioned.
We move straight to the counter. Order our usual drinks. Matcha lattes with macadamia milk.
He always orders the same thing as me. So I can drink his.
He likes the latte enough, but it’s not a passion. It’s not something that sets his senses on fire.
We pay. Move to the wicker chairs across from the coffee table.
I sit.
He sits next to me. Leans in close. “It’s not the orgasms. It’s the intimacy. Kissing someone and feeling them in your soul.” His gaze flits to the menu. “It’s different when you love someone.”
“Yeah.”
“And I did. I loved everything about Mack. She understood me in a way I needed. When we were dressed. And when we weren’t. For a while, at least.”
“The sex got bad?” I’ve never heard that.
“We were going through the motions.”
“Oh.”
“Guess it should have been the first sign.”
Maybe. I have a hard time giving Mackenzie the benefit of the doubt. “You think it was your fault?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still… want her?”
“Part of me does. But mostly—”
I don’t let him finish. “You still want her on her knees, begging for forgiveness?”
He arches a brow. “On her knees?”
“Yeah, I mean, as long as she’s begging for forgiveness, she might as well earn it on her knees, right?”