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And it was true. I felt a connection with her I’d never felt with all the women I’d been with, the countless hookups who’d just wanted a dirty fuck.
“I can’t be more than your stylist,” she whispered.
“Why the hell not? We get on great together, don’t we?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone.
Her gaze was steady. “I’m not girlfriend material. Just like you’re not boyfriend material.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’ve never seen you with the same girl more than once. I don’t want to be just a notch on your bed post.”
“I can change my ways.”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t work. I can’t give you what you clearly need.”
“I don’t get it.”
Her gaze ping ponged as she avoided direct eye contact. “Erm, I…”
She opened and closed her mouth, plainly struggling to find the right words.
“C’mon. Spit it out,” I said.
“I… I have a condition known as Vaginismus.” Her cheeks flamed. “I can’t have sex.”
To say I was gobsmacked would be an understatement. I hesitated then said, “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It means….” She took in a deep breath, then exhaled. “It means penetration is impossible because my entrance muscle is so tight.” Her blush deepened.
I edged closer. “You’ve never had sex?!”
She shook her head. “The one time I tried, my then boyfriend said it was like ‘hitting a wall’ at my opening.”
At last, her eyes met mine. I put my arm around her, held her close.
“Is there a treatment?”
Her chin dipped downward. “My doctor recommended seeing a sex therapist.”
“And did you?”
I felt her body stiffen. “No. My boyfriend had dumped me and it’s something you need to do with a partner.”
I had so many questions, but now was not the time. Joe had already taken the road up into the Hills and we were nearly home. I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her citrus shampoo. “Let’s chill by the pool for the rest of the afternoon,” I suggested. “And you can tell me more, if you like?”
She nodded. Once.
Warmth radiated through me. Prospects for the future were unexpectedly looking brighter. I liked a challenge. Hayley Wilson needed fixing. Fixing her would keep my mind off the fact that I was more broken than she’d ever be…and in far greater need of being fixed myself.Chapter 11HayleyAs soon as we’d gotten home from Santa Monica, I went up to my room. If I hadn’t needed to keep an eye on Pierce, I’d have stayed up here until my embarrassment had lessened. “What have I done?” I muttered under my breath, deeply mortified that I’d revealed my condition to him, worried about how it would affect our friendship. I changed into my tankini, and, cringing at how candid I’d been, wrapped a towel around myself and made my way down to the decking.
Pierce was already in the pool, swimming lengths at a steady pace. My belly fluttered at the sight of him…his male beauty. I stared at his broad shoulders covered in tribal tats, his wide forehead and stubbled jaw. It was enough to make me O-face…if I did that kind of thing. I forced myself to look away, spread my towel on a sunlounger, and lay down.
Tiredness invaded my bones. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I fell asleep, I could put off the inevitable?
I was out of luck.
“Hey, Yankee Girl!” His London accent echoed in my ears.
I blinked my eyes open to catch him peering down at me.
He pulled up a chair and parked his butt. “Let’s talk…”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I couldn’t help snapping. “I’m a freak.”
He raised his palms. “Whoa! Why would you think that?”
“It’s what Ian, my ex, called me.”
Pierce bared his teeth. “He sounds like a wanker.”
“He was. A total wanker.” I laughed at the oh-so-British word.
“I did a little googling before I jumped in the pool. Found out as much as I could.” Pierce appeared hesitant. “I’d like to help you.”
“How?” I creased my brow.
“I know a lot about sex. Maybe your ex wasn’t doing it right?”
Pierce plainly didn’t get that ‘doing it right’ wouldn’t work.
I needed to put him off. Like REALLY put him off. “I can’t use tampons,” I blurted out, cringing again.
He didn’t bat an eyelid. “You’ve never touched yourself? Never climaxed?”
“Of course, I have. I’m not a nun,” My clit and I were on more than friendly terms, way more, but I kept that to myself.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Has a man ever gone down on you?”
“Jesus, Limey,” I bristled. “Enough with the third degree. I can’t see how my problem is any of your business…”
He jerked his head back. “You’re a good mate, and I always do everything I can to help my mates.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not letting your dick anywhere near me.”
“Who said anything about my dick?” He poked out his tongue. “There are other ways of loosening you up.” He waggled his brows.
