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“Please what?”
“Please don’t go.”
She says nothing more, but she doesn’t attempt to move.
I can’t help myself. I press my lips to her neck, inhale her soft and silky fragrance.
“Rory…” I rasp.
She turns then, turns to face me, and now my hard dick is pressing into her abdomen. “Brock, please tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want.”
“I’m not talking about that. We could go to bed right now. We’d both have a hell of a good time. Then we could forget for a few minutes what else is going on in our lives.”
“I think I’ve proved I can last more than a few minutes.”
She pushes me away then. “For God’s sake, Brock. Could you just be serious?”
I could grab her. I could kiss her hard. She’d respond. She and I both know this.
But I don’t want to take the easy way out with her. I don’t have it in me anyway, not after today. Not after what my dad and I discussed.
I walk to the table, grab my bottle of Fat Tire that I haven’t touched until now, and take a deep draft.
I’m not going to get drunk. I’m still not over last night. But the smooth ale coats my throat, eases the dryness.
I face Rory. “I won’t lie to you. I want you to come to bed with me. But you’re clearly not in the mood.”
“Who says I’m not in the mood?”
I stalk toward her. “Okay, then—”
She puts out her arms to stop me. “Just because I’m in the mood doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
“It’s always a good idea.”
“Not at the moment, Brock. Not at this freaking moment.”
“Just tell me what you want. Please.”
“Why should I have to spell it out for you? You’re a grown man. A grown, intelligent man.”
“Are you going to make me say it? With everything else that’s going on, are you going to make me say it?”
She wrinkles her forehead. Is she truly that clueless about how I feel about her?
Of course she is. I offered to produce this recital for her. I told her no one would hurt her on my watch.
But I also treated her poorly last night.
Very poorly.
I’ve apologized, but I know enough about women—from my mother—to know that a simple apology of words, while it may be enough for the long term, won’t suffice in the short term. Women take time to get over things. It’s how they’re wired. Men are different.
Men can have a knock-down, drag-out and then be ready to fuck a minute later.
Yeah, we’re wired a lot differently.
