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She frowned. “I thought I was straight until, like, a week ago, remember? You’re going to have to tell me what that means.”
“It’s a woman who likes receiving and not giving.” I cringed, knowing my little joke was going to land the wrong way. “I know you’re willing to—”
“More than willing.” She gazed at me darkly.
“I’ll get there. I swear.” The flames licking in my core made me question, why not now? But some part of me wouldn’t let this be the moment. Not yet.
If she was annoyed, she didn’t stay that way for long. The mattress might have been small, but we used it to its full capacity—both of us naked, her writhing, me touching myself as I brought her to climax over and over. The ceilings were high enough for her cries to echo off, and as I rubbed furiously between my legs with a series of harder and tighter gasps, I found myself wishing I were the one crying out instead.
I didn’t know what I was waiting for. I should’ve been chomping at the bit to finally be with someone. Chelsea was my girlfriend, not some random person. It just felt like such a huge step.
Being on the receiving end would mean allowing myself to be vulnerable. Chelsea never seemed shy about sex. She was free, uninhibited. Me, on the other hand—it was hard to imagine allowing someone to see me like that. I didn’t know if I’d even be able to relax enough to enjoy it. I had a feeling that I’d be deep in my head.
She nudged me in the ribs. “What are you thinking about? Other than the way this mattress is leaking.”
“Nothing.” I forced a smile. “I’m sorry I’m not ready for what you want.”
She stared at me. “Don’t apologize. I want to do it for you, not for me. Whenever you feel up to it works for me, and not a minute sooner.”
I let out a breath. It felt good to hear that.
She lay her head across my breast. “What was it like with guys?”
Now I sucked in a breath. This wasn’t a subject that I often talked about. “Not too fun,” I said slowly. “I guess it was okay physically, but mentally, I was completely checked out.”
She shifted so she could look at me. Somehow, the empathy in her eyes made me feel completely safe. “They were all older?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t that many. One foster dad, one teacher, one coach.”
“I’m so sorry.” She lay across me, her heat penetrating through to my heart. “I don’t want you to feel the slightest bit pressured. I don’t want to be anything like them.”
I hugged her tight. “You’re not. You couldn’t be if you tried.”
I’d get to that point, I promised myself—if only to prove it to her.
20
Chelsea
The stench hit me as soon as I opened the apartment door. “God!” I plugged my nose. What was going on? It smelled like a rat had died in here.
I shook off my coat and boots, then searched for the source of the smell. It didn’t take me long to figure out it was the three bags of garbage sitting next to the fridge. I’d only put them there a day or two ago. The most recent one, anyway. How had they gotten this bad?
Waving a hand in front of my nose, I moved into the kitchen area, which now contained a table and chairs. On our last trip to the furniture store, Tara and I had picked them out right away. I couldn’t decide on a bed, so I was still sleeping on an air mattress.
I dug in my purse for my phone. Tara’s number was the first on my recently called list. After a moment, she picked up.
“Babe, what do I do with garbage?”
She was quiet for a moment, and I could practically see her blinking. “As in… put it in a bag?”
“I mean after that.” I kicked one of the bags lightly. “Where does it go next?”
“Probably in the garbage bin.” She was starting to laugh now, and the sound made me smile despite my embarrassment. “I’d guess it would be outside your building.”
“No one’s going to come and pick it up?” I played up my dumb-blonde voice, knowing she got a kick out of teaching me things—but also, I really needed to know.
She gave a deep-throated chuckle. “No, baby. You’re going to have to put in a little work. Also, you should’ve probably called your landlord instead of me.”
