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“Not on my side,” he said, his tone hard before he looked away. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I’d rather you were sleeping with Vespa.”
His eyes swung back. “I told you, it’s not like that between us.” They’d kissed once, back when they were teenagers. They’d both been unmoved and had agreed never to try it again.
Beatrice looked aggravated instead of relieved. “Fine. Find someone else then. Just go have sex!”
Montrell shook his head. “Why’s this eating at you? I told you, I’m not holding you to only having sex with me. If you—”
“This isn’t about me!” Beatrice looked like her own shout had surprised her. She took a step back toward the door.
Montrell used his foot to kick out a chair for her. “Come here, Bea,” he murmured, nudging it a little farther out. “Come sit.”
She hesitated, then inched closer. From the way she perched on the chair, she still looked like she wanted to bolt.
Montrell leaned forward anyway, laying a hand over hers, where it had curled over the edge of the table. His hand looked about twice her size. It made him feel worried and a bit manly all at once. He really was an idiot. “Look, last night—”
Beatrice tried to jerk away, and he couldn’t prevent his grip from tightening. “I knew this was coming,” she said.
Montrell sighed. “It didn’t change anything, not really. I mean, it was hot as hell. Fuck, I got off with barely any stimulation. But I’m still saying that if you don’t want to come back for more, that’s your choice. Out here, outside of my bedroom, things haven’t changed.”
She glared at him. “That’s not possible. I know you want sex.”
Montrell shrugged. “That’s not your problem. Even if I don’t sleep with other women. Let me worry about my own needs.”
She shook her head, though not in denial. “You’re so…”
He grinned at her. “Amazing?” he supplied. “Handsome? Better than any man could possibly be?”
“Sure, Mr. Quick Draw,” she muttered, but her lips had tilted into a slight smile. “Confusing was what I was going to say. You’re so confusing.”
Montrell tilted his head as he pulled away despite his desire to continue to touch her. His fingers tingled. “How so? I think I’m pretty straight forward.”
“Don’t you need sex?” she asked, then bit her lip as if she wanted to call back the words.
Montrell wondered if she really wanted to know but then decided honesty was the best policy. “I mean, I like to come. I told you last night, I masturbate a lot. I mean, a lot. My libido’s pretty high.” He shrugged. “If I don’t come often, I get a little restless. It annoys the fuck out of Vespa when I act jumpy.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking too much.
“Like I said, that’s not for you to worry about. Any needs I have, that’s on me. I do owe you an apology, though.”
“Because you came so quickly?” she asked, her lips pursing as her eyes narrowed.
He laughed. “Nah, I did that on purpose. Didn’t want to take things too far last night. I know I told you that you could lead, but…” He huffed, tugging at his beard. “Truth is, I like to be in charge in the bedroom. I got it in my head to make you orgasm and took over. Sorry about that. I was out of line.”
She scrambled up from the chair.
“Please don’t run,” he murmured as she turned her back to him.
Beatrice paused. He hated the way her shoulders shook.
“You didn’t give your consent for what I did to you.”
“I told you to spread the lube,” she said, her arms wrapping around herself. He could see her fingers under the edge of her arms. They clung to those damn bangles another man had given her.
“Sure, but I took it further than that. It was probably your first orgasm in a long time, and I—”
“I sometimes orgasmed with my husband.” Beatrice turned partly, but her gaze couldn’t hold his. She glared at the pushed-out chair instead. “It happened the first time he choked me.”
