Adventures in Online Dating Read online

  Chapter Ten

  After those first awkward confessions, something that had stood between them crumbled. There were no more uncomfortable silences, no more nervous laughs. It was as if they’d cracked open a dam of truth and everything began spilling over. Alexa even stopped worrying about holding back before speaking.

  Marshall told her about the difficulties of dating while trying to get a small business off the ground, as well as how women liked to slip him their numbers while he was working. Which answered the question about all those pieces of paper she’d seen the past few weeks. She opened up about dating with a post-baby body, which was a level of embarrassment she didn’t think she could surpass, but she did it in the next breath.

  “So, I haven’t had sex in two years.” How strong are these drinks? He’s going to think I’m a prude. Then again, Peyton has hinted I might be. Oh my God, I’m a prude.

  “Are you kidding me? How? Why?” His gaze swept over her, appraising and more than a little hungry.

  A different time, a different place, she might have found it offensive, but tonight it wasn’t. Tonight it was simply his honest reaction. And her body’s response to that brought warmth to places she’d started to think were frozen over for good. And the idea of the benefits that might be available through this new friendship started sounding more appealing every second.

  Then again, maybe I’m not so prudish after all.

  Or maybe that was martini number three talking.

  “A lot of men want sex, but they don’t want relationships. They want the payout without the work. I don’t see the point. I can get myself off at least as well as they can do it.” Heat rushed to her cheeks at that admission. She’d decided not to worry about trying to filter herself anymore tonight, but maybe that had been the wrong call. She needed filters. Lots of them. But she also needed to not close this part of the conversation with talking about her masturbation habits. “And the truth is—sexual peak nonsense or not—if you go without long enough, it starts to seem…unimportant.”

  Then again, maybe that was worse.

  Not to mention saying that felt like a lie, but it was the closest she could come to the truth with any degree of brevity. Trying to explain that she still desired sex but that it was tempered by logic and worry, attempting to make him understand how every day without was both a punishment and an accomplishment…it seemed like an impossible task. Was she actively working toward her two years celibate pin? She didn’t think so, but she’d still celebrate the anniversary’s arrival. He’d never understand that, and part of her didn’t want him to try.

  Of course, he wasn’t having any of it. “I cry bullshit. This last year, I haven’t had time to date, which I’ll agree makes sex more complicated, at least when a guy is honest about it. But the last few months, I haven’t even had time for sex. I have a stack of numbers three inches high on my dresser and haven’t called one of them. But it’s not because I don’t want sex. I definitely do. In fact, every day feels like I want it more than the day before.”

  While she’d been busy hunting for additional filters, it seemed he’d thrown off his like shackles. Freedom.

  Less planning, Alexa. More freedom. Live the life you’ve got in front of you. Isn’t that what he’s tried to make you understand?

  With that in mind, she pondered his response. Was the reaction to lack of sex a difference between men and women? Between someone out of a long-term relationship and someone who’d never had one? Or just between the two of them?

  No filters. Honesty. Live the now and damn the consequences. Okay, maybe not damn the consequences, but stop obsessing on them. “I still want it in theory, too. I just know that, for me, it usually leaves me feeling empty after. Not to mention that statistically, casual sex just isn’t very good for the woman.”

  He practically sprayed beer across the table with how hard he was laughing. “What the… Bullshit again!”

  “I’m completely serious. There have been studies.” And just like that, regardless of topic, she was back in her comfort zone of studies and statistics. “For starters, in casual sex, men orgasm roughly twice as often as women; the gap only narrows when there is oral as well as penetration. Since a lot of men don’t do that, especially not casually, that’s bad sex for the women involved.” She finally took a breath and the opportunity for another sip of her drink. Okay, maybe it was still a little awkward, but at least they’d moved on from her orgasms or lack thereof. Plus, as a single man, this was good for him to know. However, this was the last cosmo for the night, or she’d never be able to drive home.

  “If I’m totally honest,” she continued, “my personal experience lines up with that as well. Hookup sex is almost universally lousy sex. When there’s not going to be a next time, men become incredibly selfish lovers and don’t concern themselves with whether or not their partners reach orgasm or even enjoy themselves at all. It’s a big reason that you find so few women who happily jump on the casual-sex bandwagon. And that’s without bringing any other risk factors into it.” And just like that, she wanted to slap all the filters back on her mouth. Why the hell couldn’t she leave her own lack of orgasms out of this?

  “Damn. I feel like I should apologize on behalf of men everywhere.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. Just make sure when you have sex with someone you’re making sure her pleasure is part of the equation, too.”

  Oh my God. He’s going to think I mean me. Do I mean me? I really need to stop drinking.

  “I’ll drink to that.” He raised his glass.

  After clinking hers against his, she laughed. It had to be the tenth time they’d toasted something tonight, and she kept using the excuse that one more sip wouldn’t hurt. “You’ll drink to anything, won’t you?”

  “One thing about living in the moment is you appreciate all the little things. I don’t wait to celebrate five years of giving someone orgasms. I’m willing to celebrate the idea that good sex is important to everyone, even if I’m not involved in having any at the moment.”

  Part of Alexa wanted to argue, but for the first time, she recognized she wouldn’t be arguing because he was wrong. She’d be arguing because what he said made her life feel smaller. Debating his point wouldn’t change that.

  “In that case, I’d like to raise a glass to the epiphany you just gave me.” She shook her hair back, cleared her throat, and raised her glass. “To purple shoes that pay homage to the past. To goals that drive us toward the future. And to the moments we celebrate in the present.”

  Grinning, Marshall tapped his beer against her martini. “And to people on opposite sides of the planning debate coming together.”

  As she sipped her drink, she felt his eyes on her. It was that same hungry appraisal as before, and it made her skin tingle, begging to be touched. Her insides clenched, as if searching for something to hold on to. It wasn’t supposed to be him, but right now, she very much wanted it to be. Plans be damned. The admission made her heart skip a beat before it started thrumming to a low and pulsing rhythm.

  Music. It wasn’t her body reacting to him. It was simply her pulse pounding in time with the music that had started upstairs.

  Marshall glanced at the clock over the bar and frowned as he signaled for their waitress. “Damn. You said we had to be out by the time the dancing started. I’ll get the check and—”

  Without thinking, Alexa reached up and drew his hand back to the table. What was she doing? A guy who was respecting her wishes down to the last detail, and she was going to stop him? Considering the throbbing between her legs, the truth of the matter was she only planned on stopping him from leaving right now. “I take it back. Dancing actually sounds like a great idea.”

  “In that case, I’ll get our check, and we can go upstairs.” This time, when he lifted his hand to get the woman’s attention, the grin that split his face made a little more of Alexa’s wall crumble.

  …

  One of the other things Marshall loved about Dec
kard’s was the music. This wasn’t some hip-hop or techno place filled with people his age and under. Deckard’s was home to a live band that played everything from the early thirties to the late sixties. Sometimes with a bit of an electro twist to it, but regardless of how many people danced in small groups, it was all designed for couples.

  He led Alexa onto the dance floor and pulled her toward him. “Is this what you had in mind?”

  Her hand tight in his, she dipped her head as she laughed. “With the way the bass was thrumming, I expected something a little different.”

  “Most people do.” Without warning, he spun her away from his body and then pulled her back in, closer this time.

  “Let me guess, dance lessons were one of your many spontaneous decisions.”

  Sweeping her into a dip so deep it made her laugh again, Marshall couldn’t help but smile. This was the Alexa he’d wanted to see all along. Almost the entire night, she’d been free and real. The only way to pay her back for that was to be just as real in return. “Actually, the lessons were part of my transition. The switch to business was spontaneous, but then I panicked. I knew business was more than what went on in the office. There was schmoozing and after-hours meetings. So, for my electives that next semester, I took golf, wine tasting, and dance. I figured at least one of them would come in handy.”

  Another spin had her closer yet. Their chests practically touched. She didn’t move any nearer, but she didn’t back away, either. “And have they?”

  “I hate wine. Golf is stupid.” He took his hand from the small of her back and tipped her face up so he could see her luminous brown eyes. In this light, they were so dark he couldn’t really tell where her pupil ended and her iris began. Eyes full of mystery. Deep. Sexy. “But at least I can spin a beautiful woman around a dance floor without making her dizzy.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked, blinking slowly. “Because the world feels like it’s spinning faster than we are.” The way she bit her lip had his body reacting in ways that it probably shouldn’t if they were just friends. It also had his mind going places better left uncharted.

  “Do you want to sit down?”

  “No. But I’d be okay if you wanted to hold me tighter.”

  There hadn’t been much space between them to start with, but he closed it immediately, pressing her against him. Her heart thudded so hard he could feel it against his own chest, just as he was sure she could feel the length of his hard-on against her stomach. “Better?”

  She nodded, and for a second, she dipped her head as if shy. Then she sucked in a deep breath and looked at him again. The lights overhead reflected in her eyes like fire. And she parted her lips as if to speak but simply waited.

  Carpe the fuck out of that diem, you idiot.

  Marshall cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch like she was meant to be there. And in that instant, nothing else mattered. Not her string of first dates, not the café, not even that she was someone’s mom. The rest of the world ceased to exist. It was just the two of them in this moment, and he wasn’t about to risk it passing them by.

  His lips brushed across hers, lingering only a second, but he stayed right there, close enough they were breathing the same air. That singular taste hadn’t been near enough, so he took another, slower. She moved her hand up his shoulder and tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. The touch of their lips was electric. The kind of thing people wrote about in songs and romance novels.

  Her lips were already parted slightly, but when he traced them with his tongue, she opened to him, pressing even tighter against the length of his body. She tasted like heaven, and when he slid his tongue against hers, his entire body lit on fire. Sense flew out the window, and he grabbed her by the hips, holding her against him, his leg between hers.

  She shifted her hips, grinding against him until he moaned into her mouth. Only then did they part. Her chest heaved slightly as she gasped for air.

  The music had stopped.

  Her pencil skirt was hiked up to near mid-thigh.

  Panic lit her eyes as she glanced around and yanked her skirt back into its proper position. So much for his whole higher-class establishment idea.

  Wrong place.

  But it was definitely the right time.

  If he’d had any clue they’d end up in this position, he would have suggested somewhere else.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to look at him rather than at everyone else. “Do you want to go?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Damn it.

  He nodded and took her hand, leading her toward the stairs. He’d screwed this up so badly. Hopefully, she’d forgive him. Hopefully…

  Alexa drew him to a stop at the top of the empty stairwell. “I don’t want to stay here, but I’m not ready to go home yet.”

  Hopefully, she’d suggest the night wasn’t over.

  “My place?” he offered.

  “Your place sounds absolutely perfect. Just remember, you’ve only got twenty minutes to convince me it isn’t the worst idea ever.”

  …

  Alexa couldn’t believe she was doing this. Her brain kept trying to tell her no, but her body was so deep in yes territory that there was no going back. Not even when they got to Marshall’s apartment and she saw the way he lived. It wasn’t even a bachelor pad with the requisite slick leather furniture.

  No, Marshall’s place looked like a high-end college dorm room. Guitar in the corner. Multiple gaming systems hooked up to a TV bigger than the giant one she had bought for their family room. And in lieu of a couch and recliner, he had an oversize papasan and a quartet of gaming rockers. She didn’t even turn toward the kitchen, afraid of what she might see there.

  Marshall dropped her purse on a table by the door and twisted the deadbolt before leading her past the living room and down the hall. He popped the bedroom door open, and she closed her eyes, dreading what she would find as he led her inside. But she couldn’t hide forever, and after a fortifying breath, she took a peek.

  Oh. This was okay. As long as she never left his bedroom, she’d be fine.

  As soon as she thought it, she realized how dirty it sounded, and her heart started racing. Was she any different than the women he’d told her about? The stack of… She glanced toward his dresser, but Marshall turned her chin back to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  As much as part of her wanted to look, wanted to know exactly what she was dealing with—she wanted this more. And for once, she wasn’t afraid of the spontaneity of it all. “Yes. I’m good.”

  He shifted his hand to the back of her neck and drew her in for one of his soul-searing kisses. How had she gone her whole life without once being kissed like this? Like his next breath depended on his ability to share it with her. As if his entire being wanted her, without pause, without question.

  Every last one of her defenses crumbled against the onslaught of his lips. She was helpless and not the least bit concerned about feeling that way. When he drew back from her mouth, he planted tiny kisses on both corners of her lips, and an embarrassingly blissful sigh escaped.

  “I’m going to be straight with you, Alexa. If all you want to do is make out, I’ll respect that, but as I’m sure you noticed”—he pressed her hand against the bulge in his jeans, and she trembled with want, with need—“I’d really prefer we don’t put any limits on what we’re doing tonight.”

  The feel of him in her hand made her miss half his words. “What do you mean?”

  He stepped toward her, sandwiching her hand between their bodies, her knuckles pressed against her clit as she held him. “I want you stripped naked and in my bed. I want you to orgasm at least twice before I get off. And I want you to fall asleep with my name on your lips. Is that clear enough?”

  In case it wasn’t, he circled his hips, rubbing the back of her hand against the swollen nub, and she let out a low groan. “Yes. Please, yes.”

  She expected him to tear off her
clothes, throw her on the bed, and get started. Impulsive, reckless—everything he’d made her come to expect from him.

  Instead, he ever so slowly undid the buttons of her blouse, all the while keeping up the grinding assault on her clit. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to stay focused. But her free hand fumbled with his shirt. It had been so long since she’d done this, and far too long since there’d been any sort of seduction involved.

  As soon as he had her blouse open, Marshall pushed her hand away from his buttons. “You want this off? I can make that easy for you.”

  Two buttons were undone at the collar, and he yanked it over his head and threw it on the floor. All that beautifully muscled and tan skin stood bare before her. He thrust his hips forward once, eliciting a surprised gasp as his length pressed against her. Then he stepped back, freeing her hand so he could push the blouse off her shoulders.

  He drank her in—that hungry, almost predatory, gaze back once more. To have a man look at her like that every time she undressed…

  When he stepped forward, he ran his fingers along the lace edges of her bra cups, and she shivered, thankful she’d put on some of her prettier lingerie before leaving the house. “This is beautiful, but I think what’s underneath will be even better.”

  She didn’t know how to speak, what to say. Sex had never been like this. Not with Christian, and surely not after. This was a special kind of magic that made her feel like she was precisely as beautiful as Marshall believed.

  As he reached around and unhooked her bra, he trailed kisses where his fingers had been a moment before. The straps slid off her arms, and it didn’t even occur to her to stop them. Marshall’s mouth moved lower, finding a nipple and flicking it with his tongue. The move startled her so badly she reached out to steady herself, finding purchase on those muscles she’d been too nervous to touch. His shoulders were almost as hard as his erection. As he sucked on her nipple, rolling his tongue around it, she dug her nails into his skin.