Corrupting Chastity - Krista Wolf Page 0,6
sorta get that.”
“So then I’d plan that night, you know? I’d set it all up. Get it all perfect and ready. But…”
“But you’d chicken out last minute.”
She nodded sullenly. “Usually, yes. Either that, or the guy would get all goofy. He wouldn’t act precisely the way I expected him to act — the way I’d always imagined he should act — and it would blow the whole thing for me.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “I think I see the problem here.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
My stomach did a slow roll as her pretty, blue-green eyes danced with mine.
“Then enlighten me,” she smiled.
Five
CHASTITY
I was still tingling all over. Covered head to toe in goosebumps, from that spine-tingling moment where he’d whispered into my ear.
I’m sure it also had something to do with what he’d whispered.
“Okay,” Senan said, leaning back. “Your biggest problem here is you’ve become your own worst enemy. You’ve built this whole thing up too much. You put sex on an unreachable pedestal, making it way more important than it actually is.”
The barista returned, sliding our beverages in front of us. She got the order backwards, and the moment she turned away he switched them.
“So then you created this flawless, impossible-to-achieve scenario in your mind,” he went on. “Probably as a way to guard yourself against let-down, should the whole act not live up to the hype.”
He reached out and handed me my tea. I accepted it gratefully as he brought his coffee to his sexy lips.
“Hype?” I asked curiously. “You think I’m hyping it?”
“Over-hyping it, yes.”
“But shouldn’t it be hyped?” I asked. “I mean I’ve seen sex, and it looks amazing. Shouldn’t it be amazing?”
“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “It is. It’s absolutely amazing.”
“So?”
“The problem is you won’t let yourself relax and enjoy it,” he said. “You’re too worried it won’t measure up. You missed that awkward-but-fun window, when no one knew anything and we were all just winging it. Now you’re a little older, and everyone’s had sex but you. You’re intimidated and maybe a little bit afraid of that, but you don’t have to be.”
I set my tea down, suddenly completely disinterested in drinking it. Everything he was saying was dead on. I knew it in my heart.
“If we were to… you know…” I said hesitantly, “how would you make me unafraid?”
“That’d be up to you,” he said plainly. “But with me, you wouldn’t have to worry about failure. I’m not a boyfriend. I won’t be there in the morning. You don’t have to impress me, or worry about making everything ‘right’ between us.”
“So you’d be like… practice.”
“Exactly,” Senan smiled. “We’d take things at your own pace, and no faster. Plus, I’d show you things. Incredible things…”
He stretched, and for a moment I saw the ripple of his abs as his shirt went tight.
“In a way,” he finished, “you could consider me your own personal playground.”
He rolled forward again, all broad-shouldered and beautiful. His arms were muscle upon muscle. His chest looked like I could get lost in it for days.
Still need to think about this? the little voice in my head teased.
“Tell me about yourself,” I blurted. “A little, at least.”
“Why?”
Because you’re stalling again, I chastised myself. Admit it.
“Because I already feel comfortable with you,” I said truthfully. “But somehow… I think it would help.”
Senan raised an eyebrow — a single eyebrow, mind you — then shrugged his big shoulders. After a short pause he cupped his big hands around his coffee mug and began telling me his story. Some of it, anyway.
I only half-listened. Just enough to know he was a person and not a psychopath. Enough to put something of a personality behind the scrumptiously hard body I was about to take between my legs.
Holy shit. You’re really going to do this!
Yes, I probably was. The admission was stark and sobering. It came with the gut-churning excitement of what we were about to do, along with a surprising measure of relief that this long journey would finally be over.
Senan talked, and I listened. Then, all of a sudden, I was talking too. I was telling him about my parents and their unrealistic expectations. About my brother the lawyer, my sister the surgeon. I even talked about Train Direct, the failed startup I was a huge part of. How it consumed nearly three years of my life. How I’d worked sixty-hour work weeks for no pay, trading my talents for an ownership stake… in nothing.
Minute by minute we grew more familiar — like two people out on a first date.