Sex Says

“Game? What game?”

I rolled my eyes. “I have a game for us to play. Obviously.”

“What’s the point of this game?”

“To have fun?” I questioned. “I thought that was the point of every game.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t bullshit me.”

“We took a step last night—”

“No.”

I laughed. “Yes. We did. You know it, I know it, your neighbors probably know it.”

“Oh, my God,” she groaned, dropping her face to her hands in embarrassment.

“But you are doing your absolute best to ensure we don’t talk about it, and I had a feeling that would be the case. So, think of this game as an icebreaker. An introduction into sex and the healthy habit of talking about it with a lover.”

She peeked at me through her fingers and sighed. “Do you ever stop preaching?”

“When all the lessons are learned.”

Her hands fell from her face, and one went straight to a determined hip. “How about you teach yourself to listen when people are talking to you?”

“Seems boring. I’d rather watch for real cues.”

Her eyes narrowed on me as she considered her options. She could throw me out, slap me across the face… Hell, I was sure she had some ideas I’d never be able to think of. But when the dust settled and the truth of her emotion surfaced, getting rid of me wasn’t the route she took.

“Fine. You can stay. For now.”

“Great.”

I waited until she’d ushered me fully inside and closed the door behind me to finish my thought. “We can skip the game if you want—go straight to the part where we have sex again?”

“Just when I think you really are different—”

“Ever think that maybe I’m just saying what you expect me to say on purpose?” I hedged.

“You’re not that smart.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not. But I am fully aware that every time I act in a way you don’t expect, and presumably don’t believe, you become more aggravated and determined to hold me at arm’s length. So maybe the answer to getting to know you, to spending time with you, is to give you some sense of safety through the expected.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Fine. Go get a glass of water.”

She stomped an adorable bare foot. “And stop ordering me around.”

“And a towel.”

“Reed!”

“It’s for the game, Lo. You can’t deny the game.”

“Jesus Christ in a bassinet,” she said in a huff.

I made my best puppy-dog eyes, and she caved.

“Water, a towel…anything else?” she called out over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.

“Just you, Skeets.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“Reed?” she asked, and for the first time since I’d gotten to her door, her voice was serious.

“Yeah?” I asked, equally earnest.

“Call me Skeets again, and I will mutilate you.”

There was real…something…in her eyes. Maybe pain? I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I knew this wasn’t a battle worth wasting my negotiation on. “Understood.”

I took a seat on her couch and awaited her return. She handed me the glass of water from behind the couch and headed for her bedroom for a towel. I couldn’t help but stare after her, entranced by memories of the night before and everything it had been for me. That hall and where it led. This couch, for fuck’s sake.

“Here,” she yelled, breaking my concentration by shaking the towel out in front of her and then throwing it right at me. I did my best not to spill the glass of water.

“So violent,” I remarked teasingly, and she shot me the finger.

“Just tell me how to play.”

“Sit down on the coffee table,” I instructed.

“Oh, you get the couch, and I get the coffee table?”

“We’ll switch places soon,” I promised.

Seated, with her tan legs crossed, she demanded to know all the things again. “Okay. What do I do?”

I loved looking at her legs, but it was no struggle to concentrate on her eyes. Amber and green swirled together; they were like a perfect portal to her quirky, delicate soul. “Take a drink of water and hold it in your mouth.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she took the glass from my hand and held it to her lips. “And then?”

“Then I’m going to read something to you, and you have to try not to spew your spit water all over me.”

She snorted. “Romantic.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you looking for romance?”

Her answering glare was icy. “Let’s just play.”

“As you wish,” I conceded with a smile.

I waited until she had a full mouth of water and then a couple of extra seconds after that, just for fun.

She leaned forward and punched me in the shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” I said with a laugh. “You’re a demanding little thing.”

Then again, I’d known that last night. Not now, Reed.

I cleared my throat, shook the paper in front of me, and calmly read the title of the first porno on the list. “Plowed by my wife’s mom: a sexual experiment.”

Water covered my face before the final word was even complete, and Lola’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls.

“Oh, my God,” she squeaked like the most adorable stunned mouse. “I’m sorry.”

I grabbed the towel and wiped my face before leaning forward to touch my mouth to hers. So stunned by spewing all over me and my jovial reaction, she let me.

“I’m not. That’s the point of the game, and thanks to your hair trigger, I’m now up by one.”

“This is the game meant to improve our sexual health?”

“Sure is.”

“Why are you so ridiculous?”

“Because it entertains me and you,” I told her truthfully. “Now get your ass over here and switch places with me. Read the next one on the list but don’t go past it.”

“Fine. Drink up.”

I did as ordered.

“But just so you know, I’m hoping you don’t fucking spray me like a hose.”

I waggled my eyebrows. She grabbed the towel, opened it up, and covered herself from the neck down.

“Meaty Poles and Meaty Mommas: 300 Pound-Plus Lovin’.”

I swallowed the water easily after keeping my composure.

“What the hell?” she asked in outrage. “How are you not spewing all over me right now?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m just more mature than you are.”

“That’s rich. Switch,” she demanded, ripping the towel from her shoulders and shoving me in mine. “Right now.”

She gulped a huge mouthful of water, determined to outdo me.

She raised an eyebrow with teasing ease as I said, “Throat-banged at the office.” But after a brief pause, I caught her off guard. “Part Five.”

Once again, I found myself soaked.

“It does not say that!” she yelled, snatching the paper out of my hands.

I shrugged as she read it for herself. It did, in fact, say that. Granted, I’d added it to the original title while making the list, but it definitely said it.

I was being shoved onto the coffee table again when her doorbell rang.

Both of our heads swung to the door abruptly.

“Expecting someone?”

“No. But I’m never expecting you.” It didn’t take a decoder to figure out she meant that in more ways than my propensity to show up at her door.

It might have been the best compliment she’d given me all day.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I had no idea who it was, but I was certain of two things: they were crafty—somehow finding a way to the door without my buzzing them up, and they weren’t Reed—he was already here, sitting comfortably on my couch. The man had a knack for showing up unexpectedly—a skill I liked to pretend made me feel annoyed when it really made me all tingly and happy inside.

Although, tonight, there was a small part of me that wasn’t too keen on his surprise visit. The whole non-sex, sex fiasco had really complicated things, and I wasn’t ready to see him. I was still trying to wrap my brain around what it had meant and what it had changed, and most importantly, how I had ended up naked with Reed’s penis inside of me.

It was one hell of a mind riddle, and it might have been handy to have a little more than a day to solve it.

On top of the mechanics of how it actually happened, I was also trying to understand my fuck and get the fuck out response in the aftermath.

I had all but shoved him out the door.

Shit. Did I actually shove him? Maybe…

The whole “Reed Luca is my nemesis” mind-set didn’t exactly lay out a path toward getting naked and boning like angry, horny bunnies. I mean, most people didn’t have sex with someone they hated.

Yeah, but you don’t hate him, my mind whispered. You like him. You, like, really, really like him.

Obviously, my brain was still a little confused. Just because a man took you to Pound Town and let you ride a unicorn and find the leprechaun’s pot of gold didn’t mean you had to like him.

Although, there really was something to be said about those unicorns…

The knocks, unfortunately, didn’t take a time-out to let me finish my little mental breakdow—powwow. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.