is a self-centered jack-off, and it will be my distinct pleasure to show you everything you’ve been missing.”
“So…” She fingers the rim of her glass and cocks her head at me. “What qualifies you? Harlow said you were a man whore, but that doesn’t make you actually good in bed.”
It’s hard not to cringe, but I somehow manage a smile because Masey’s question proves she’s thinking. Experience doesn’t automatically make a person good. “Man whore is probably a strong word. I won’t say I haven’t had a lot of sex. I have. But that’s not what qualifies me. It’s my focus.”
“What does that mean?”
“My brother concentrated on football—peewee, high school, college, pro—for nearly three decades. I knew from the time I was little that I didn’t have Noah’s ability with a pigskin. I played a little, but it wasn’t where I directed my attention.”
“But girls were?” She arches a brow at me.
“Oh, yeah. Well, that and boats. I love anything to do with the water.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Not me. I can barely swim.”
Seriously? “You didn’t take lessons as a kid?”
I picture her growing up in some upscale suburban community with a mom who carted her to all kinds of lessons, including instructive dips in the pool.
“Water has always intimidated me, so I never really wanted to try. Anyway, you were saying…”
Too bad I won’t be with her longer; I could show her the joys of more than sex. She seems like she’d be fun to hang out with. But I brush the thought aside. She isn’t looking for anything except a good time. Neither am I.
“Early on, one thing became clear to me: my brother was built for sports. I was built for sex.” It probably sounds cocky, but that’s the best way I know how to put it.
“So you’re God’s gift?”
I laugh. “No. It’s that focus thing. He put all his attention and energy into throwing a ball. And I put mine into—”
“Getting laid.”
“Not exactly. I mean, I definitely put energy into getting girls into bed,” I admit. “But to me, sex isn’t about the conquest or even getting off. It’s about figuring out my partner’s body, learning what she responds to, then making her come apart for me.” I definitely get off on it.
Masey’s cheeks turn pink. “And what do you do with a woman who doesn’t come apart at all?”
“You don’t orgasm during sex?”
“Not really. I’m just…in my head too much.”
Because her ex didn’t give her enough time or stimulation to get out of it. That’s not her fault. But at some point, it doesn’t make sense to keep talking about sex. It only makes sense to show her. “Let’s see about fixing that. If you’re still interested?”
There she goes, biting that pouty lip again. I shift in my chair thinking about all the ways I can make love to that virgin tongue.
She downs the last of her wine and nods. “It’s probably crazy, but I am.”
I push her wineglass toward the bartender. “I’d offer to get you another one, but I want you to have a clear head tonight.”
“I’d like that, too. But…”
“But?”
She sighs. “I’ve never even kissed a man I don’t know well, much less…”
Had sex with one. I get it. “You need to know me to feel comfortable?”
Masey grimaces. “If I don’t, I worry it could be a real problem. I’ll just be uptight that I’m screwing a stranger and—”
“It’s fine,” I assure her and launch in with the basics. “I grew up on Oahu with Noah and my sister, Samaria. My parents were great. My dad passed away a few years ago, so my mom moved here to Maui to be closer to me. And you know my brother joined us here after he retired from pro football and left Texas. So we’re all pretty close. I went into business for myself about ten years ago. I do all right. I’m generally happy.”
“No girlfriend?”
“No.”
“No long-term relationship or fiancées along the way?”
I came close once but… “No.”
Masey doesn’t need to know about that disaster to have a good time with me in bed. She also doesn’t need to know about my son. I like this girl—really, I do—and some part of me is already wishing we had more than a night, because I think our chemistry has serious potential to be a major win in bed. But if this is purely a one-time hookup, then telling her about Ranger now is a potential overshare.
She nods consideringly. “How old were you the first time…”