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“Is Gigi giving you some pointers?”
I freeze against him. There’s nothing Gigi just suggested that I’ll ever do.
I pull away a little, just enough so I can see his face and nothing else. His large frame blocks everyone else in the room, but I won’t make the mistake of forgetting that there are others around like I did outside when he first came home.
“I’d never do the things she mentioned.” I shake my head to help get my point across just in case my words aren’t enough. I lower my voice to a whisper. “Do men really like having sex in front of other people?”
His smile falls. “Shit.”
That strong hand goes to the back of his neck. It tells me that he’s going to be honest about my question, but it’s also an indicator that I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“Oh God… really? I won’t—I can’t do that.”
“April.” His hand cups the side of my face. “I’d gut any man who saw you naked.”
“And sh-sharing? I can’t do that either.”
“I could strangle Gigi for even bringing that stuff up.”
“So, you don’t want to… you know... in front of people?”
“No.” His jaw flexes as if he thinks I’m crazy for even wanting that clarification.
“You don’t want to share me with your friends?”
“Jesus, April. Of course not. I should’ve come over here sooner. What else did she say?”
I shake my head. I can’t have this conversation with him. I feel like crawling in a hole and hiding for a year, and that’s after only a five-minute conversation. People warned me about Gigi, and talking to her isn’t the problem, but since everyone knows her so well, that means they also know what kinds of things she was just talking about. It’s like I’m embarrassed by proxy or something.
I’ve been growing more comfortable around the people here, but I feel like I’ve just been set back farther than I was when I first arrived. Her husband apologized for her loose lips, but he also whispered something in her ear that perked her up. She didn’t look upset to be pulled away from our insanely inappropriate conversation and right out the front door of the clubhouse. My face grows even warmer thinking about what they could be heading to do.
I know people are freer around here with their affection. They don’t hide how attracted they are to their lovers, but it’s like I’ve crossed over some line, walked into a different world than the one I came from. I didn’t think I had hang-ups about sex, but being intimate in front of others and having another sexual partner outside of a committed relationship? That’s a hard pass for me.
“Hey, look at me.”
I blink up at Nate, noticing the worry in his eyes. “I want you and only you. I’m not showing or sharing or even talking to anyone about what happens in our bed.”
I nod, needing to hear him say that for some reason.
“Are you ready to go to the room?”
After just mentioning what happens in our bed? Yes, please.
It wasn’t the details of what Gigi was sharing that got me revved up, but the thought of experiencing things with Nate have kept me incredibly warm the last couple of days. I want to kiss him and run my fingers through his hair. I want to feel his warm skin against mine, hear those little sounds he makes when his mouth is on my neck.
“Yes,” I answer, letting him take my hand when he steps away, so he can lead us there.
We aren’t able to just disappear. Several people stop us to chat, and it seems like an eternity before we’re closed in the bedroom alone. Sounds of the party, people laughing, and music playing softly filter into the room, but none of it is really distracting.
He presses his lips to mine after locking the door, but it’s a soft kiss, one I know won’t lead anywhere just yet. I try to hide my disappointment when he takes a step back, but then he does that thing where he pulls his t-shirt off from the back of his neck instead of the front, bottom hem like normal people, and my mouth goes dry.
I don’t know when the man finds time to work out, but his efforts are visible from his biceps to his chest, to those muscles that ripple around his midline.
He notices me watching, a small smile playing on his lips as he tosses his shirt to the side. I can’t even seem to gather the irritation that would normally form for not walking it to the laundry basket because I’m too focused on the way everything works together when he reaches for his belt.
“Your eyes on me, that sparkle of interest are the best things I think I’ve experienced in my life,” he whispers as if he’s afraid that speaking at regular volume will make me stop doing it.
