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Her eyes crinkled in amusement from under hooded lashes. “Why don’t you find out?”
Taking my hand, she lifted it to her heart, just above the swell of one breast. As soon as my palm pressed against the fabric of her blouse, warmth seeped through to greet me.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head, feeling the accelerated heart rate.
“I need to be honest with you,” she whispered.
When I opened my lashes, I lifted my eyebrows, ready to hear something awful like she did knowingly and willingly sleep with my sister’s fiancé after all, and she didn’t regret a second of it.
But what she said was, “I, uh, I don’t actually have any coffee in my apartment.”
I grinned, relieved. “That’s fine. I don’t like coffee.”
“What?” Her brow furrowed. “But I’ve been meeting you in the breakroom for coffee, like, all week long.”
“I’m not sure what you were paying attention to in that breakroom, Miss Nicksen,” I told her, unable to stop smirking, “but it certainly wasn’t what I’ve been putting into my cup. Because I’ve been drinking tea all week long.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. Have you really?”
I snickered out an amused laugh before gravely telling her, “And here, I could tell you exactly how you take your coffee. Extra dark, two sugars, and one scoop of French vanilla creamer.”
“Oh, Gracen. I’m so sorry,” she murmured, looking horrified as she set her hands over her cheeks. “I feel like I’ve been totally objectifying you because, no, I definitely did not notice you were drinking tea instead of coffee.”
“Well, you know the best way to fix that, don’t you?” I asked, taking her hand. “Show me to your room and get all those nasty, objectifying ways out of your system, so then maybe tomorrow morning, you can actually look me in the eye and find out how many packets of sugar I put in my tea.”
“One,” she said, looking in my eyes now. “You put in one packet. Now, follow me.”
Turning, she led me to her bedroom.
This space was decorated in blacks and whites with splashes of bright yellow. Just like her name. All it needed was a streak of Gray.
But I’d wait until later to streak. For now...
I glanced around in wonder, learning more bits and pieces about her until she stopped us by the bed and turned to me. Flattening her hands across my chest, she watched her own fingers spread wide, moving across my pecs before she looked up.
“You’re not going to get mad if I don’t come, right?” she asked in a rushed, very nervous voice.
I blinked, not expecting her to say that. “What?”
“I mean…” She shook her head and waved a hand. “I probably won’t. Actually, I definitely won’t. But that won’t make you feel deficient in any way, will it? Is that something that’s a big deal for you?”
Uh… “You mean, when I come but my partner doesn’t?”
Nodding, she bit her lip.
Yeah, that was kind of a big deal for me.
She looked so worried and concerned about my feelings on the subject, though, that I just took a moment to blink and think all this through. Then I lifted a finger and said, “Question. What makes you think you won’t come?”
“Because I never have before. I mean, not during, anyway. And Liam, a boyfriend I had for over a year, tried in, like, every way imaginable. It’s just not possible for me.”
Huh. This was definitely not the conversation I thought I’d be having tonight.
But I simply watched her, letting her explain everything before I asked, “But you’ve had orgasms before, right?”
“S-sure.” With a bashful shrug, she blushed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean, when he—when he went down on me, or I—I took care of myself. But never when he used his—you know—his penis.”
I would bet some serious money that just now was the first time Yellow had ever uttered the word penis before. I nearly burst out laughing, watching her face turn bright red as she talked about something that was so clearly uncomfortable for her, and she did it in such a no-nonsense, businesslike manner, too.
