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“Making whisky in Israel is insane. The climate is super-hot,” Erez lectured, but his voice wasn’t as dry as before. “It speeds up the process, but also makes it more costly. Do you know what angels’ share is?”
“I think of investors in startups when I think of angels.” He grunted, and his demeanor darkened.
She ignored him and sprayed a little more water into the glass, swirled the whisky, following the play of light on the liquid. She would let him work some of the demons that were clearly plaguing him through talking about a favorite subject.
“It’s the evaporation percentages of the whisky inside the barrel. In cooler climates, it’s a 2% to 5% loss. In Israel, it’s a crazy 12% per year!”
The tumbler was crystal cut, square and heavy in her hand. It disappeared completely in his.
“Say,” she was feeling a pleasant buzz, and had to stifle the desire to kiss the soft dark hair peeping through his shirt’s gap, “wouldn’t ice change the taste, just like water? And cool it too.”
He finally smiled.
“Let’s get you some ice.”
He left his seat to dig into a small fridge, plopping a large round ice cube into her glass. The round cube in the square tumbler clicked and melted slowly, making the pale-orange drink almost delicious.
Her head wasn’t swimming. She even asked intelligent questions.
“Erez,” he had such a lovely name, it rolled on the tongue, “why is ‘whisky’ spelled without the ‘e’?”
“Scottish regulation says that ‘Whiskey’ spelled with an ‘e’ is Irish or American. The rest of the world is without an ‘e’.” His deep voice dripped like honey down her spine. “Guy experiments with casks maturing near the Dead Sea. The whisky develops so fast it has to be removed after only six months to a cooler climate, in our case, Tel Aviv.”
She wanted to tell Erez about Ilan. About the way their sexual life had become so complicated. No one else knew. He was a good man and deserved honesty. And she deserved it, too.
“Erez, I’m sorry,” she said, cutting into another flow of information, “about the way I acted at The Thinking Nook.”
He took a sip from his glass, his Adam’s apple moving as he gulped.
“I’m sorry too. I was out of line and came on strong. I owe you an apology as well.”
“I encouraged you. I said yes and asked for more. I want to explain why I reacted the way I did.”
She swallowed another mouthful of the liquid, which now was going down as smoothly as water. This baggage she carried from her marriage blocked everything. It was time to let go.
“My Ilan, I mean my ex-husband, he…this is a little embarrassing.” She squeezed his hand hard, but he didn’t flinch. He squeezed her hand back, gently.
“Go ahead, I’m listening. This can’t be as bad as you imagine. Spill it.”
“He is a Dom,” she blurted out the truth about her husband, revealing to Erez the most disturbing part of her marriage, the part that made her feel as if she was an inadequate wife. She tried to please him, to give Ilan what he needed, tried to be his sub. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t reconcile the gentle, caring man she had married with the stern one, the Dom who told her to call him ‘Sir’ and became sexually excited when she obeyed his commands. “He discovered it during our marriage–that he likes to dominate in the bedroom. He wanted me to submit…and I wouldn’t.”
Finally. She exhaled and blushed so hard her face heated.
Chapter 25
I Want To Lick Your Dick
Her hair framed her face, rich brown with golden and red streaks, and her eyes shone with defiance and vulnerability. This admission about her failed marriage was brave and very intimate.
He had come here thinking about the ground moving under his feet because of Yogev’s threats. His findings about the mistakes in Kisharti’s records weighed heavily on his mind. Both these concerns made him cold towards her, and she thought he didn’t want to be here. He’d made many mistakes dealing with her, and he was afraid to make more, and he needed to speak. Soon.
He still hesitated. Anything involving sex was very hard to talk about, and the mind games of dominance and submission were especially complex. No wonder she freaked out when he so foolishly used a term he hadn’t fully understood.
“I’m not a Dom,” he finally said, going for simplicity.
“You said it, you said the word.”
He spoke slowly, measuring every word.
