“No thanks,” Tristan laughed. “I’m not sure I could handle that much manpower.”
“You need to give yourself more credit, buddy.” She faced him, took his shoulders in her hands, and looked into his eyes. “You are strong and resilient. You could handle The Rock if he wanted to bang you.”
Tristan’s mouth tightened in consideration at her words, his eyes glistening with sincerity. “Thank you for your support, Cami. I appreciate it more than you know.” Then with a laugh, he shrugged her off. “Now go get your laptop and get out of my fabulous hair. You’re a bad influence.”
“I’ve never been a bad influence on anybody before!” she called as she bounded up the stairs to her apartment.
Maybe Des was rubbing off on her.
11
On Friday evening just after seven, Cami knocked on Des’s front door. Her nerves thrummed through her body in time with her heartbeat as she waited for him to answer. She nervously bounced on the balls of her feet. It felt like ages that she stood conspicuously on his stoop, and she was sure his neighbors were peering through their blinds at her. No doubt they would know she was there for illicit purposes.
The door swung open, and Des appeared. He looked as frustratingly immaculate as always, even dressed down as he was. He wore dark wash jeans that stretched taut over his thighs and a simple white button-up, untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It struck her then that she’d never seen his forearms in the light before. A dusting of black hair played across russet brown skin. As he tucked one hand into his front pocket, tantalizingly corded muscle shifted in his arm, and she was struck by the image of that forearm sliding between her thighs.
“I’m glad you found the place okay.” He stepped aside to allow her in. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or water?”
“One of each, please.”
He steered her into his living room, and she settled onto a warm brown leather sofa as he disappeared around the corner to his kitchen. She wasn’t a wine person, but she was hoping it would help her loosen up.
Ever since she abandoned Tristan that afternoon, she’d been fighting off nightmare scenarios of how this would play out. Of course, the absolute best-case scenario ended in her first ever orgasm. The far more likely scenario was that she wouldn’t come at all. Worst case, Des was mortally offended, but she doubted he’d care. No one she’d ever been with had so far. He’d shrug it off, say it was a sexy idea, but reality rarely lived up to fantasy anyhow, and they’d go their separate ways. She’d never be able to look him in the eye again, and she could make Lenny tell him to start making appointments instead of just showing up at the store.
Oh God—This was a horrible idea. She was going to end up embarrassing herself.
Des returned with a tray of three drinks—who owned a drink tray?—and laid it on his coffee table, then passed her a glass of wine and placed a tumbler of water on a coaster in front of her. He took the other wine glass for himself and settled into the armchair to her right.
“So,” he said, his gaze tracking her movements as she took a long swallow of wine, “I think we should go over some ground rules and talk a little before we get into it.”
The wine spread through her, warming her from the inside out. She took a moment to let the heat relax her shoulder muscles before she nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee. His socks were argyle.
She’d never considered what kind of socks he might wear. Seeing them firsthand, and noting the little wiggle of his bigtoe as he got comfortable, made the situation feel intimate, affectionate in a way that made her smile in spite of her nerves.
“So, as we discussed at the store, this is about product review. We’ll test some toys out and see if we can find some that work for you, that you can use on your own. Does that sound like what you were expecting?”
“Yes,” she said. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and she tried to wash away the feeling with more wine.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to come.” He twirled the stem of his glass between his thumb and forefinger as he watched her. “Please know I won’t be offended. This needs to be a stress-free experience.”
“Right,” she agreed. She swallowed the rest of her wine in one go.
To her deep, all-consuming relief, he didn’t press the subject. He did pause for a moment, gray eyes surveying her in a way that made her wonder if she was failing some kind of test. “I went back to Sex on the Beach yesterday and picked up a selection of things. We don’t have to try them all, especially anything you aren’t okay with.”
“The whole point of this is to expand my horizons,” she finished. “I get it.”
“Right.” He leaned forward in his chair, his foot lowering to the carpet as he pushed his wine onto the table. His face was open and sincere as he met her eyes. “But it’s important to me that you’re comfortable with this. I’ll keep my hands to myself. This isn’t me trying to get you into a compromising position so I can push your boundaries.”
She let out a breath. “Oh, Des, I know.” She leaned forward too, and swapped her empty wine glass for the cup of water. “I’m not— I didn’t—” She gestured to her empty glass. “I’m not downing wine because I’m worried about you doing anything sketchy.” She didn’t want him feeling like he’d guilted ormanipulated her into anything she didn’t want to do, but the idea of telling him the truth about her nerves—that if even toys couldn’t her off, then she was well and truly broken—churned her stomach. “It’s just… It’s been a while.” The lie felt dirty rolling off her tongue, like she’d licked an ashtray. “I want to do this. I just get in my own head about this sort of thing.”
He’d been listening intently as she spoke, no signs of judgment on his face, and when she stopped, he nodded. “Tell me if that changes, okay? We agreed to just toys, no touching otherwise, and we’ll stick to that. How naked do you want me to get?”
She flushed. “You don’t have to get naked,” she said. “I mean, it’s up to you.”
“We’ll take it as it comes, then,” he replied with a soft smile.
She huffed a laugh and fidgeted in her spot. Her anxiety had receded to negligible nerves, thanks to some combination of the wine and Des’s charming little smile, with the dimple winking in his left cheek. This would go well. She was sure of it. She would come and Des would be the first ever man in her life to keep his word. “Then should we get this show on the road?”
