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Julia
“Now,getting back to more pressing matters…” Chris faced me once the server retreated after delivering our cocktails and taking our dinner order.
“And what would that be?” I brought my glass to my lips and sipped, the gin concoction a mixture of floral and fruit flavors.
“You know precisely what that is.” His stare intensified. “What we were discussing before we were so inconveniently interrupted. The fact you haven’t had sex in seven years.”
“Yes.” I pretended to act unaffected, as if this conversation didn’t fray my nerves.
Here I was, supposed to be playing the part of Mrs. Robinson, the mature, experienced, older woman. In essence, I was still that naïve college student who fell for the charms of the teaching assistant in her English 101 class, completely unaware of the monster lurking beneath his enigmatic, intelligent façade.
Chris may have been younger than me, but something told me he was the one with infinitely more experience when it came to sex.
“In those seven years, have you at least been intimate in other ways? Let a man finger you? Or, better yet, put his lips on you?” He leaned back in the booth. So relaxed. So in control. So…debonair.
What I wouldn’t have given to possess even an ounce of his assertiveness. I normally had no problem voicing my opinion, especially when it came to my business. But around Chris? I’d somehow regressed into the shy teenager who’d been asked out by the star quarterback. Being in his presence wreaked havoc on my insides, turning them to mush. Talking about sex with him as if discussing the latest surf report ate away at what little composure I’d fought to maintain.
“Sorry to say, I haven’t.”
He straightened, gaze focused on me. “How about some hot and heavy make-out sessions? Over-the-clothes humping? Apart from earlier today with me, that is.” He smirked, dimples popping.
“The truth is, I haven’t been on a date since my twenties.”
“May I ask why? I’m not saying you need to be with a man to be happy. But everyone has needs. Even if it’s just a one-time thing.”
I took a long sip of my drink, practically finishing it. “It’s…complicated.”
“Sob story complicated?”
I simply nodded, not giving any further explanation.
“Humor me with this then.” He curved toward me once more, his scent teasing me. It was more intoxicating than my drink. And there was certainly quite a bit of liquor in it. “Why me?”
“What can I say?” I made a show of licking my lips, drawing on every ounce of sex appeal I possessed. Being around Chris, the way he stared at me with nothing short of raw hunger, made me feel sexier than I had in years.
Sexier than I thought I’d feel upon turning forty.
“You made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” I mimicked in my best imitation of Marlon Brando.
When a sexy chuckle rumbled from his chest, I pushed out a small puff of air, grateful for the break in tension. But the light atmosphere only lasted a moment before his expression turned dark and seductive once more.
“And why is that? Why was this an offer you couldn’t refuse? Although, technically, you were the one who made the offer.”
“True. I just…”
How could I possibly explain it when I couldn’t quite understand it myself?
“I’m sorry if you feel like I’m prying.”
He grabbed my hand and brushed his thumb along my knuckles. It was a simple gesture, but it still felt so intimate. Like it was the beginning of his slow exploration of my body. One that would shatter me in all the ways I wanted.
And all the ways I was petrified of.
“I suppose I am.” He lifted his eyes back to mine. “You haven’t been intimate with anyone in over seven years, and you suddenly decide to go for it with a total stranger? Seems like a pretty big leap, if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I was thrilled when I overheard you talking about me. Even more so when you said exactly what you wanted me to do to you. I’m just trying to understand.”
“It is a big leap. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time for a good reason.”
I was cautious, not wanting to unintentionally reveal something I didn’t want him to know. And, god, I did not want this man to know a single thing about my past. About my marriage. About my real life. I feared if he knew, all I’d see was his sympathy. His remorse. His pity. That was the last thing I wanted.
