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She squinted for several moments but with a snort and a shrug, she said, “Fuck it – yes. We went at least six months without sex towards the end. His choice.”
I choked on my water. “I can’t even fucking fathom that.”
“Well… fathom it.”
“Was he sexually interested in women?”
Lia gave a dry laugh. “Oh, he was interested in women. He just preferred to watch porn and jerk off because that didn’t require thinking about another person’s pleasure.”
Christ, what an asshole. I could’ve come last night just from listening to Lia orgasm, so I had genuine trouble picturing a man who wouldn’t want to hear that sound as much as humanly possible. “Damn,” I finally said.
“I know. Shall we change the subject?”
“No, I’d like to know more about this boyfriend. There had to be a reason you stayed with him for however long you did.”
“There was. And I’ll tell you all about it if you tell me about Cam.” Lia cocked a daring eyebrow. Fuck me, the last thing I wanted to talk about was Cam but the sexy look she gave me somehow won me over so I played it off and gave a shrug.
“Fine,” I agreed.
“Shall we order wine first?”
“Absolutely.”
I went with a bottle of Bordeaux and the tasting menu, letting Lia hold off on her story as we waited on the wine. She was bouncing with the need to check out the big painting hanging on the back wall so I wound up watching with amusement as she failed to contain herself, eventually getting up and weaving through the tables to go get a look.
I obviously enjoyed the view but I wasn’t exactly pleased with the other eyes that followed me in gazing at Lia’s backside. I rarely had the energy to care about other men eyeing my date but something was different tonight. I couldn’t help feeling protective as she abandoned her usual caution to admire a simple painting. Jesus. She really nailed that whole sexy-but-cute thing. Even from the back, I could see her sense of wonder while soaking in every inch of the canvas, the same way I was so damned eager to do with her body. I had to smile her entire scurry back to the table.
“Sorry, sorry!” she whispered, slipping back into her seat. “It’s just so beautiful. I had to study it hard to take a proper mental picture.”
“Why didn’t you just use your phone?”
She looked up with surprise. “I thought I would embarrass you.”
I laughed. “You would have but I’d let you. Tell me what was so captivating about that painting for you.”
“I don’t know.” Her dreamy voice drifted off somewhere. “The colors. And patterns. It reminded me of pictures I grew up seeing of the food markets in Spain. And I sell more hand painted truffles than anything so I like to take inspiration here and there.”
I nodded at the bottle the waiter came to present, doing a quick taste and approval before returning my attention to Lia. “You’ve been to Spain?”
“No. I haven’t been anywhere outside the U.S,” she answered. There was a hint of bitterness mixed in the regret of her voice. “I want to though. Barcelona, in particular. I tend to gravitate so much toward Spanish flavors when I’m making chocolate.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ah.” She winced and touched the back of her neck. “I guess… this is a good transition into talking about Ritchie.”
“The one and only ex?”
“Mm-hm.” She peered up at me as if anticipating a reaction for what she was about to say. “I met him when I was fifteen. I was with him for ten years.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know. And yes, there were reasons I stayed. The wrong ones, I’m sure but they felt right at the time.” Lia stared at the wine that she swirled in her glass. Wrinkling her nose, she looked up at me. “You’re sure you wanna hear about this?” she double-checked with a laugh. “It’s not at all interesting. It’s just how I… got to be the way that I am.”
“Then it’s interesting,” I said. “Tell me.”
She took a sip of her wine, letting out a pleasured little hum into the glass. “Well,” she started slowly, drawing out the word as if buying herself time. “We met in high school. He was new and I had a crush from day one so my friends pushed it. We started dating out of nowhere and it was a normal, healthy high school relationship until probably a year later.” She paused. “When my mom died. Of a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry,” I frowned hard. “You don’t have to go on.”
