Loving Ms. Wrong Page 5

  “Oh, yeah you do. Here’s the plan: we’re going to roll the dice in a kind of ‘have you ever game’ and you have to tell the other person what your experience was like.”

  A mixture of dread and excitement settles in my gut. I’m starting to like this guy. What will it be like to really talk about the nitty gritty act of sex with him—and possibly wind up admitting to my problem?

  Chapter Six

  Marcus

  She’s agreed to more talking—perhaps the long night stuck in her tiny bedroom-slash-living-area won’t be bad after all. I can’t deny I’m starting to feel something for the woman with blue bangs. She’s an interesting dichotomy of facts and hints. One that has intrigued me despite my best intentions that she’s all wrong for me.

  Maybe if I approach this like a casual fling everything will work out. She’s pretty damn hot and it took every ounce of self-control I possess to not reach out and touch her ass while she was sticking it up in the air stretching. Downward facing dog, my foot. That pose, looking at it from a guy’s perspective, clearly screams come and take me from behind right now.

  And yet, I sensed no intent on her part that she meant to drive me insane with desire. Thankfully, she stopped after a few minutes and my boner subsided before she noticed.

  We walk slowly back toward her personal space, still holding hands. Once we open the door again, the accumulated heat is a stark contrast to the cooler interior of the shop.

  “See?” She says while dropping my hand and heading toward the mini-fridge. “I knew it wasn’t me. It was getting hotter in here. Let’s keep the door open for better air flow.”

  “Okay.” I prop the door open with a chair from her table. The temperature is much higher than I realized and I slip the robe off and drape it over the remaining chair. “Are you all right with me wearing only my boxers, or do you have a pair of baggy shorts I can put on?”

  Katrina whips around to look at me, eyes scanning me from head to foot and back again, her throat working double time while she swallows. “Um… uh… I’m okay with it.” She pointedly turns back to the counter, where she was placing things from the fridge. “I don’t think I have anything that will fit you.”

  I’m onto you, sweetheart. You definitely feel something for me. Thinking about what she’s thinking about has my blood moving south again.

  I stifle the urge to adjust myself, knowing she’ll see it and discover my secret. Best bet might be to sit on the couch and pretend I’m not feeling anything so it will go away. Maybe that dice game isn’t a good idea.

  Grateful the boxer briefs aren’t particularly tight, nor thin, I settle back on the futon, bending one leg to rest on the ankle of my other knee to hide my growing arousal. In a few minutes I’ve got myself under control. She brings over an assortment of veggies and hummus on a plate and two glasses of water and then lights all the candles we brought in from the store. Very soon the space is filled with the warm glow of the minty-smelling candles.

  “Do you like the food? I thought this would be smarter than hot soup.” Her behavior is hesitant and shy again. Dammit, and we’d been making such great progress.

  “It’s perfect, thanks.”

  We eat in silence, sipping water every now and then.

  “Marcus… what do you do for a living?” she asks, reaching for a carrot.

  “I’m a contract lawyer at Apollo Industries, where Tony used to work. I work mainly with the financial people and assist on big deals when needed.”

  “I have no idea what that entails, but it sounds like you’re doing well.”

  There go my grandiose dreams of impressing a girl with what I do. Nice. “Well enough. I like it.” Hoping this is a good time to ask about what brought her to this point in her life, I venture into unchartered territory with a question of my own. “You mentioned this business wasn’t your initial dream. What made you decide to buy it?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure really. I was working here to have something to do between creating my metal pieces and selling them. Got to know the owner and the business… had some money saved from previous art sales… decided to take the plunge into respectability rather than keep living the bohemian lifestyle of an artist any longer. The routine… it suits me.”

  “Running the store or being more nine to five compared to an artist’s odd hours?”

  She scrunches her nose while thinking, the expression looking adorable on her. “Well, the job isn’t really nine to five, but I get what you mean. It’s more stable than when I was solely working on my art, that’s for sure.

  “Hmm…. If I really think about it, I’d have to say both. The basic daytime hours fit my current life better, as does the ten o’clock open and eight o’clock closing. And I don’t mind the responsibility associated with owning a small business.”

  “Good for you. Why don’t you seem happier with the decision? Where you always an artist and maybe you miss it?”

  “Hardly. I kind of fell into that, too.”

  My frustration at her lack of direction bubbles out before I can stop it. “What did you go to school for? At your age you should have a better handle on your life.”

  “Well, that’s awfully judgmental coming from a guy who’s still running from his humble beginnings.”

  My first reaction to her quietly spoken rebuttal is a defensive one. I open my mouth to retaliate… Until I realize she’s right and I’m an ass.

  “Good point. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t say I’m running from my past, but you’re right, I was judging you when I had no right to.” I run a hand over my face, wondering why what Katrina thinks of me should matter.

  “Apology accepted. And I can see from the outside looking in, I may appear flaky, too.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “But I’m not… I was—”

  I wait, giving her time to collect her thoughts. “Yes?”

  “I was lost for years. Not caring where I lived, what I did, or who I slept with. I had a lot of issues I needed to work out.”

  Her meditation makes more sense now. “Your yoga and meditation helped you…er… find yourself?”

  She laughs, a soft sound rather than a full-on belly busting release. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  Desperate to put her back in better spirits I grab the sex dice off the coffee table and roll it. “Was part of finding yourself how you learned the names for sex positions?”

  My tactic seems to have backfired as a frown tugs her mouth down. “No. I learned all those fun facts when I was desperately trying to feel something… anything… again.”

  I watch her carefully in the low light, hoping for some sign on what to say to get her to open up. Her partially revealed half-truths are pulling me closer despite my intentions to keep this encounter light-hearted. “What happened to you to stop you from feeling?”

  I reach a hand across the space dividing us on the couch and hold her hand.

  “It didn’t happen to me. It happened to my younger sister.”

  Cold dread settles in my middle as I think of a few bad things that could have happened to a younger sibling that would disturb anyone.

  “Was she…? Did they catch him?”

  She glances up at me, her heart and pain in her eyes. “How did you know?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Unlucky guess. Did she survive the rape?”

  Katrina relaxes into the couch, as if a weight has been lifted from her. “Yes, she did. She went through years of counseling and she’s doing fine. Better than fine actually. She seems to have put it behind her and is even engaged now to a terrific guy.”

  “Good for her.” I squeeze her hand. “But what about you? Are you fine?”

  “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I never talk about it anymore. It’s been almost ten years.”

  “I don’t think time should matter. I’ve never known anyone who was raped and I can’t even begin to fathom what their loved ones need to recover as well.”

  “I arrived home right after it happened.
I found her and called for help. The anger and rage at seeing what was done to my sister—it consumed me. All I could think about was revenge and killing the guy.”

  “Rightly so. I think that sounds pretty normal.”

  She tries to remove her hand from mine and I don’t let her. “But what happens when the feeling doesn’t go away? When you begin to plot his death and can’t close your eyes without seeing what was done to someone you love… what do you do then?”

  “I—I don’t know. What did you do?”

  “After two years, I left the country.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I realize this is a common retelling for her. Maybe it’s what she told her friends and family. But I have a feeling it’s not everything. “I’d hoped a change of scenery would jar me out of the circle of hate.”

  “And did it?”

  “Not at first. It took a while. After a year of wandering, I found myself in India studying yoga and meditation to diffuse the anger. I had odd jobs and lived simply. That’s where I learned to work reclaimed metal into art. Eventually I was able to let the rage go, but only after a very long time—and a lot of mistakes. Meditating has been the one thing in life to bring me peace.”

  “Good for you! That’s something isn’t it? You should be proud. Others may have allowed the hate and bitterness to infect the rest of their lives, without ever being able to move past it.”

  What a remarkable woman. And here I was, thinking she was some lackadaisical meandering fool, content to drift from one thing in life to the next. She’s a wounded soul who’s strong again. Her achievement in combating personal demons far exceeds anyone I’ve ever met.

  “Thanks, but I’m far from perfect.”

  “I dunno,” I say with a rakish grin. “You’re looking pretty damn good to me.”

  She takes a deep breath to steady herself, trying once again to pull her hand from mine, but I won’t let her. “Except for one major flaw…”

  I lean closer, eager to put my mouth on hers again but unsure how she’ll react if the timing is bad. “What’s that?”

  “I… I feel nothing during sex.”

  My heart drops to my stomach. What the hell? I know she felt something when I kissed her. I saw her reaction when I touched her hair. She feels, I know she does.

  “That’s a bunch of bull. You’ve just had bad lovers.”

  “Ha! I wish.” She tugs her hand again. “I knew you’d react this way.”

  “Stop pulling away from me. You’re stuck with me for the night and I happen to like holding your hand. It’s warm… and strong… and it feels sexy against my palm.”

  She snorts in disbelief but stops trying to draw away. “How can my palm feel sexy?”

  On a whim, I lift our joined hands and bring it to my mouth, kissing the back of her hand. “Don’t you feel the heat between us? The spark of what might be?”

  “It’s getting hotter in here because the AC is off and it’s July.”

  I linger over another kiss while staring into her eyes. “That’s not it.”

  “Trust me. I’ve tried it all. Men, women, both at once, two of one gender, toys… exotic positions… nothing worked.” Hunger shines in her gaze… hunger and yearning. Her breath eases out steady and slow, her attention never wavering from me as she sits in silence.

  I gulp at the images racing through my mind. “You’re really good at dropping sexy conversation bombs and then clamming up, you know that?”

  “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Nope. I don’t. You say things…”

  “Yes?”

  “They twist me up inside. Make me want to prove to you that you can feel.”

  Her interest deflates a bit, like her own mind is talking her out of enjoying the moment. “I’ll just let you down.”

  “You won’t! Don’t say that shit.” I reach over and cup her face with my free hand. “You’re letting your mind get the better of you.”

  She pulls her chin away, easing my hand from her heated skin. “Easy for you to say, you’re not in my head.”

  I lean in and capture her mouth. The touch of our lips is gentle and brief. “So let me in. I can’t claim to be Casanova in the bedroom, but I can promise it’s better when you let down your defenses and allow the other person in.”

  “Please. A guy who doesn’t think his magic wang is all I need to cure my ills? Sure. You’re too good to be true.”

  “Hiding your issues behind humor? Isn’t that more my forte than yours?”

  She bends toward the table and grabs the die, examining the current face up side. “Weren’t we going to play your ‘game’? Did you lose interest in quizzing me on my past sexual exploits?”

  “What am I, dead? Of course I want to hear about sex. Lay it on me.”

  She frowns at the image on the plastic. “Nothing I can really add to this one.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  She leans in closer to me, our thighs now touching on the couch. “Fellatio. Pretty basic, really.”

  My cock surges, prompting me to cross my legs to hide the reaction. Uh-huh. That wasn’t noticeable at all. Grown men often jerk and cross their legs all of a sudden.

  My voice croaks out. “Pretty basic, huh?”

  Jesus all this casual talk of sex mixed in with heavy emotional stuff apparently makes me a bundle of quivering testosterone.

  Her killer body and sultry looks don’t help, either. Just kiss her and get it over with already.

  No way. Good things come to those who wait and I’m willing to play this as slow as she needs. I don’t want to be another guy she felt nothing with.

  She smiles, enjoying my discomfort. “Yeah, you know. Cock goes in, cock goes out. Lots of suction and slippery good licking ensues…”

  “Uhh…” Holy shit. What do I say to that?

  “And then the inevitable happens… hot, sticky come shoots down your throat.”

  Nice! That answers the inevitable question my dirty mind would have pondered for hours. “That sounds about right.” My dark blue boxers hide my rock hard erection. “You’ve covered it all. I don’t need to weigh in. Um… next roll.”

  She laughs, the sound bright and happy, unlike some of the other times she’s laughed tonight.

  “God, the look on your face is priceless. Guys are so easy to rile up.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Riling me up?”

  Katrina meets my bold gaze with one of her own. “Maybe. But it won’t be enough. So maybe I’m just a tease.”

  “Woman, I have no doubt whatever we did together would be ‘enough.’”

  Her lips turn up at the corner. “For at least one of us.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “And what if it is?”

  Chapter Seven

  Katrina

  I stare into the aroused eyes of the handsome man sitting close to me and wonder, what the hell am I doing? Sure he’s good-looking, sure I’m attracted to him, but that’s happened to me in the past and it came to nothing. Why do I think tonight it could lead to more?

  Because of the way he’s looking at you, you fool. He wants to eat you up! Let go, enjoy. Stop overthinking everything.

  “Some men thrive on a challenge.” There’s an edge to his voice, desperate and sexy as all hell.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really? In all my various travels, I never would have encountered that particular breed before, would I?”

  He chuckles. “Oh come on… that just makes it even more tempting to try. To boldly go where no man has gone before.”

  A laugh bubbles out of me at his Star Trek quote. “I wouldn’t say that last part was true. I told you, I’ve been with a lot of partners. Does that bother you?” Now there’s an edge to my tone, like I’m trying to make sure he knows exactly what he’s letting himself in for. I never want to be with a guy who throws my past at me later in an attempt to make me feel bad.

  “No. Those encounters didn’t matter. None of your partners mattered or you would have f
elt something. Can’t you see the inherent challenge in being the one? What man wouldn’t want to be the one manly enough to make a beautiful woman enjoy sex again?”

  A blush heats my cheeks when he compliments my looks. I admit, I know I’m attractive enough, but I’ve felt like I’ve been defective the past ten years. Living an asexual life no matter who I invite into my bed.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you.” I finally give in to the urge and lay a hand on his thigh. God, it feels so good to touch a man again.

  Marcus practically jerks on the couch, obviously quite sensitive to my touch. He’s so responsive. Nice. This could be fun.

  “Who says you will?” he says softly. “Isn’t there a greater chance of me disappointing you?”

  I mold my hand over the muscle above his knee, desperate to go higher but unwilling to tempt myself into believing it might work with him when it hasn’t so many times before.

  “Uh… about your past.” He stammers out. “How long has it been since you tried again? And what exactly are we talking about — an inability to orgasm?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone for two years. And no worries. I was able to orgasm, for the most part.” I trace a fingernail over his kneecap, just like I ached to do earlier. “But it didn’t make a difference. I felt empty afterward. Nothing for the person or the experience. Even the climaxes weren’t stellar… just kind of meh. They happened and it was done.”

  “Did you know your partner well?” His voice croaks out when my hand creeps back to his thigh. “Like perhaps you need to get to know me really well for there to be any feelings involved?”

  I remove my hand and twist to face him fully, resisting the urge to climb onto his lap and grind over his erection. God, I want so much to enjoy sex again… “Is that what you want, Marcus? Rather than what we’re experiencing in the here and now? Having ‘feelings’ for someone isn’t what I meant. I meant enjoying the act fully, truly feeling it. Which is possible without the trappings of love and commitment. Do you really want to get to know me? Do I fit into the perfect mold of who you want in your life?”