Kiss King - Mickey Miller Page 0,58
We’re all damaged in some way, and it has to seek an outlet.”
“Huh. I never thought of the body as holding trauma.”
“When we experience a trauma, whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a huge failure, or something physical—an assault, a sickness, shame, anything—it lives on in our body. If we don’t find an outlet, it will compound. We must release our trauma.”
“Can we release trauma through sex?”
“Sex is certainly one of the areas where deeper issues can manifest themselves.”
He turns the shower on and takes off his shirt.
“My mother used to talk a lot about that with her sex therapy patients. She said that the ones who had bad sex lives, well, it was never about the sex itself. A healthy sex life is an outgrowth of a healthy psychology.”
“Your mother sounds like a very smart woman.”
“She is.”
Grant gets into the shower and soaps up.
Over the sound of the running water, he says, “You’re lucky you had such a great mom who taught you these things. I didn’t talk about sex so much with my parents, I just kind of read a lot of books and put stuff together for myself.”
“I know, I’m quite lucky,” I say, but my tone comes out unconvincing.
Grant sticks his head out from the shower curtain.
“Why don’t you sound sure about that?”
“It’s just that…if she was such a big expert with sexual psychology, why couldn’t she and my dad stay together?”
“That’s a doozy, Maya, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I have the answer for you. Maybe you should ask her?”
“Maybe I should. As open as our relationship is though, that’s one area that we haven’t traversed.”
From the shower, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that you used to paint on the quad nonstop until they separated.”
“I know. The weird thing is that I bet it would be therapeutic if I could just start painting again. But I can’t even see myself picking up the brush.”
The muscles in Grant’s neck flex. “Why do you think that is?”
I shrug, and don’t respond. He ducks his head back into the shower.
After staring at his sexy, wet body, part of me wants to get in with him. But another part is still nervous about what will happen once we cross the ultimate line of no return.
Why is it that I’ve crossed that line plenty of times, but when it comes to Grant, I’m holding back? Good God, we were virtually having sex last weekend…
Still in the shower, he plays the Red Lemons album on his waterproof phone, and I hear him singing along with his deep baritone voice.
Finally, he turns off the shower and gets out. My pulse races as he towels off. Not going to lie, I like the look of those wet abs.
“Do you think we have a healthy sexual psychology together?” I ask Grant. This is something I’ve picked up through osmosis from having a mom who is a sex therapist.
He ponders for a moment. “Too early to tell.”
He grins, and I catch him staring at my ass in the mirror before he brings his eyes back to me.
“Have I told you lately that you have an incredible ass?”
I blush. “No, you must have forgotten my butt compliment for the day. Is this part of our ‘healthy sexual psychology?’ Butt compliments?”
He kisses me on the neck, sending goosebumps across my entire body. “Well, it’s true. I’m kind of obsessed with it. Although, I’m more obsessed with figuring your mind out.”
I respond, “My mind? Oh, you don’t want to go down that road.”
He rubs my scalp lightly. “I think I do. I have a feeling that I could know you for twenty years and never really get to the bottom of you. But it’s fun. It’s like delving into a question. The mystery of what makes you, you.”
I yelp when he catches me by surprise with a hard spank on my left butt cheek.
“Yep,” he grins. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
A curious grin crosses his face as he looks at me.
“What?”
“Do you always wear panties around the house, but not when we go out?”
“Maybe.”
“Just maybe?” Grant runs a hand down my side. “Well don’t wear them tonight.”
“Yes sir,” I giggle.
“Good girl.” Grant kisses the back of my neck, making my stomach coil. “I’m so excited for tonight.”
He heads out, and a few moments later I hear another knock on the door as I’m finishing up.
“Hi, Maya…” says Alex. “I’m not interrupting anything if I use one