What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [20]
They lay silent for a few minutes, during which Jenna tried not to feel anything inside. Just the physical part. Because—for whatever reason—she had needed sex tonight. So she tried to enjoy the afterglow. And she tried really hard to forget the weirdness of where she was and whom she’d just had really amazing sex with.
Until Brent—lying on his back next to her, peering up toward the gazebo’s rafters—said, “Sorry, sunshine, but looks like I win.”
She sucked in her breath and turned her head toward him. “Win what?”
Next to her, he sat up, then reached for her hands to draw her upright, too. “I proved my point,” he said, back to being the smooth, matter-of-fact “sex doctor.” “You agreed that if I did, you’d let me take you the rest of the way, through the fantasies you need.”
Ugh, there was that icky word “need” again. “This proved nothing except that apparently I can have sex with a stranger.”
He grinned, lowering his chin indulgently. “However you want to look at it. But we both know you want this now. We both know you’d take enormous pleasure from it.”
Her cheeks filled with heat. We do? We know that? She had no idea how he’d made that leap—since one occurrence of sex with him, however hot and scintillating, did not equate to going through the whole series of fantasies, with more strangers.
“What—what would it entail?” She heard the words leave her mouth, but she couldn’t believe she’d actually asked. As if she were considering this. Because that was insane.
“I’m sure you’ve read the literature,” Brent replied. “As your guide, I prepare a series of scenarios designed especially for you and your individual needs and desires. By the time you’ve completed them, your sexual inhibitions will be a thing of the past and you’ll be a happier, healthier person.”
Sexual inhibitions. Did she really have them? Could he know what he was talking about? And yet . . . she needed to rephrase her question. Because she wasn’t asking about what he thought she needed as much as she was asking about . . . the man she’d just had sex with. Although she tried to sound casual about it. “No, I meant the sex itself. The fantasies. How do they work? Would . . . you be there?”
Their eyes met in the dim candlelight from the table above. His filled with reservation. “I’m not supposed to be.”
Jenna pulled in her breath, nodding lightly, not quite able to meet his gaze anymore. It had been crazy to even ask. What difference did it make if he was there? She supposed some small part of her had begun to think: Maybe if I can do this with him, I could do that with him. But since when did she want this—sex with a stranger—anyway?
Placing one bent finger beneath her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “Would it make you more comfortable if I were involved?”
Jenna blinked. Tried to wade through her tangled feelings. “The total truth?”
“Absolutely. I’m all about the truth, sunshine.”
She drew in her breath—and fought to be honest with him. “The truth is that I can’t believe I did this with you and I can’t believe I’m sitting here with my panties still around my knees—because this is not the kind of thing I do, which I’m sure you understand by now.”
“And that’s exactly why you needed to do it.”
Need again. Shut up about that already. “The very notion of . . . of doing what you’re suggesting, going through these fantasies you want to create for me, is . . . mind-boggling. I can’t believe I’m considering it for even a second. But I suppose I was thinking that since I’ve now been . . . like this, with you, that maybe, just maybe, it would make future such . . . experiences easier for me . . . if you were there.”
Brent sighed. “It’s a pretty big fucking rule, Jenna. It’s there for a reason.”
She didn’t ask the reason, just stated the obvious. “You just broke a big rule, which I presume was there for a reason.