I took that offering and stepped one foot out to test the waters. “Tell me what you mean.”
Some dude reached for his beer on the bar behind me and I lowered my hand, my fingers grazing across her leg. The muscle in her thigh tensed, but I didn’t look at her, didn’t even acknowledge that I’d touched her and God, I had no idea what the fuck was wrong with me. This was Jessie. My friend. The girl I couldn’t mess things up with.
“You’ll think it’s lame,” she said, her breath coming out in little wisps.
I shrugged. Maybe it was for the best that I didn’t push her to tell me. But as we listened to the end of the song it was killing me not knowing what she thought of me.
Finally, my hand brushed up her leg again, grabbing her attention. “Try me.”
She nodded and held my gaze. “It’s just, when I saw you with that girl in the bathroom bar . . .”
I cringed. I should have realized she’d bring that up. Was I about to be schooled by her? I figured that it’d be best if I just waited in silence, allowed her to take the lead for what she’d want to say.
“It’s just . . .” she continued. “I know you hook up with girls but you never really talk about it or bring anyone around.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Because it’s never for more than one night.” Why the hell was I even telling her this? She’d think I was an even bigger man whore now. And that didn’t sit well with me. It was true that I kept that part of myself away from her. Even when the guys razzed me about it, I deflected or joked around about it. “It’s not every weekend. But sometimes . . . it all just builds up.”
“Are we talking about sexual frustration here, Square?” she said, nudging her knee playfully against mine.
“Exactly,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You familiar with it?”
Chapter Twelve
Nate
It felt like we were crossing a line here. But the way her tongue ran across that bottom lip. Goddamn.
“Of course I’m familiar with sexual frustration,” she said in a hoarse voice. “But I tend to get my needs met from the person I’m dating.”
I nodded. “Still dating Mr. No-Show?”
“Nah, that’s been over,” she said.
“Good,” I said, feeling protective and jealous all at once. “He wasn’t good enough for you.”
“I know,” she mouthed more than said. Because with the music pumping behind us we pretty much had to be good at lipreading. I signaled for the bartender and ordered us another round of beers.
I leaned in again. “So, did I solve the mystery for you?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly.”
My eyes slid up to hers. “What else?”
She spun her empty beer glass around on the bar. “The handcuffs.”
Well shit. But somehow I knew that subject would figure into this conversation. It was hanging thick as a rope between us.
“The handcuffs,” I said taking a deep breath and trying to remain as neutral as possible. “Just an overexuberant idea with an old girlfriend that went south fast.”
“So you’ve actually had a girlfriend?” she asked, more stunned by that revelation then the actual handcuffs.
“Sure, I have.” I hated that the idea of me dating someone was such a surprise to her. But I guess it made a lot of sense. I’d never once talked about anyone significant in front of her.
“So what happened to you guys?”
“She was my high school girlfriend. And I guess we just drifted apart.” After she thought I’d lost my mind and had turned into a sexual deviant.
It was time for me to get off the hot seat. To turn the tables on her. “What about you?”
She took a sip of the new beer the bartender had placed in front of her. “What about me?”
“Didn’t you say you’ve used some handcuffs?”
“I’m not sure you want to know, Square,” she said, a smirk hanging from her lips. “Might be too wild for you. When I used them it wasn’t just some exuberant idea.”
I tried to control my breathing because I sure as hell couldn’t control the blood rushing straight to my dick. “I’m ready. Lay it on me.”
Her eyes flared for a brief moment and then she sighed, hunching over in her seat.
“What exactly do you want to know?”
What the hell kind of question was that? Was there more than one handcuff incident? Fuck, did I even want to know? It might only serve to fuel my fantasies. “Um,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. “So you’ve done that before?”
“What, been handcuffed?” she said. “Sure, why not? I’ve tried lots of things.”