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He shook his head slowly, his eyes on the road. “Not really, no. But I think I needed the comfort level I had with Aaron. I don’t think I would have been okay with what happened otherwise.”
“Well, I’m not sure you’re going to consider any of the other guys on the site as competition,” I said, thinking back through the hundreds of messages we had received. Kurt had been the only one who hadn’t been too old, too ugly, too young, or too creepy to consider. “I can keep looking.”
“Or we can go back to the De Lucas.” The suggestion was quiet but deadly, each word shooting over and hitting me in the chest. A stab of hope. Arousal. Trepidation. Fear. Too many emotions to properly sort out.
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, my finger halting in its caress of his palm.
“I don’t know.” He came to a stop at the light and looked over at me, his profile lit red by the signal, his face devastatingly handsome against the shadows. “You liked them, right?”
Brad’s touch . . . each brush electric against my skin. Hands skimming up and down, around my nipples. The heat. His fingers flexing, lifting, cupping . . . Possessive. Confident. Exhilarating. His warm breath against my neck, my breasts. “Ask your husband if I can touch you.”
“Ummm… yeah.” A lot. An ocean’s worth of arousal.
“So, maybe we do something with them again. Something more.”
I thought of my lunch, scheduled for this Tuesday with Julia, and warred over how to respond. Our post-De Luca fight was still fresh in my mind, plus there was the issue that Brad and Julia may not want to hook up with us. “I don’t know.” I reached down and undid my first heel, flexing and stretching the foot as soon as it was free. “I felt like that ended badly with you and me.”
“It ended badly because I was insecure.” He sighed. “I need to get over that.”
“Are you over that? I mean, it’s only been a week.” And it wasn’t like anything had changed. I still hadn’t fully forgiven him—if that was the right word—for the Nicole debacle. Not that it was his fault, but still. A wasted trip to Los Angeles. Countless calls with her. Hours of research and wining and dining and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit—only to have her make a big investment and cut Easton out of the payday. Well, Easton cut himself out of the payday but STILL. A fresh bloom of anger erupted in my chest. I yanked on the other heel and tried to smother the emotion.
“I could be over it. I think”—he paused, and I could see the indecision on his face before I heard it in his voice—“I think I need you to fuck him.”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking it over. I feel like I’m running from it if you don’t. I need to know how I compare. And look, if he pleases you better than I do, then I’ll learn how to fuck you better.”
He gripped on the steering wheel, the veins along the back of his hand bulging. I looked away as the radio softly played the strands of a Dave Matthews song. “That’s crazy. I’m not judging a contest between you two. And he’s a person. A married person. He’s not a ride at the fair that I can hop on because you want to know how I like it.”
“Look, I wasn’t worried about Aaron. And at FSU, half those guys had drunk dick or came in a few minutes. I’ve never had much competition.” He glanced at me. “Maybe I’m sloppy. Maybe I’ve relied on my dick too much and never really learned my stuff. But that prick?” He shook his head as if in disbelief of Brad De Luca. “He knows his shit. I was fucking intimidated just sitting across from him. And when he had his hands on you, his mouth on you?” He swore. “I felt you, Elle. I had my mouth on you. You responded. And you came so hard. You were damn near quaking against my mouth.”
“But that wasn’t just him. She—” I took a deep breath and tried to sort through the emotions I’d felt. “You made this sound when she took you in her mouth. It’s a sound you make with me sometimes, when you really like what I’m doing. And it triggered something in me. I thought I would hate it. I thought I would be furious and insecure and jealous. But instead, it was like a fire, one that made me crazy turned on. It made everything else—his touch, your mouth, the experience… more. And it was watching them together, her reaction, knowing they could see us—it was everything, and experiencing it with you—that’s what I loved.”
I looked at him. “What happened with Aaron was more than a normal night between me and you. But that wasn’t him. It was you—you trusting me to do that. You giving that to me. Us sharing that together. And if you have sex with Julia, I think it would be hot even if she sucked in bed. I think just the experience of you having two girls instead of one—it would be more. And…” I faltered as I suddenly realized that the idea of that no longer scared me. Our night with Aaron had been one of the hottest of my life, but I’d never attributed that to Aaron. I had immediately filed it in its own category in our sex life. I pulled on the seatbelt and tried to find my way back to our conversation. “Does any of that make any sense?”
