explanation for why this is necessary again. Especially since we’re now officially sharing a bed and living space.”
“I just think it’s best we wait.” And he says it so casually. Like it’s already decided and that’s that.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Actually, there’s just the one. The solidity of our relationship,” he announces. “Now, this is all very cutting-edge science, I assure you. Try your best to keep up. You see, I’m basing my hypothesis on my own past experiments in this particular field.”
“I’m listening.”
“This may shock you, but in every relationship I’ve had up until now sex tends to enter the equation quite early on. And each and every one of those relationships failed.” He holds out a hand like he’s presenting something. Like he’s a magician as opposed to a sexy moron. “In summation, it is my belief that fucking too soon quite possibly fucks things up long-term.”
I wrinkle my nose. “No.”
“Yes.”
Give me strength. “Or maybe you just weren’t compatible with these other people.”
“Maybe.”
“Or either you or they weren’t ready or looking for a relationship at that particular point in time.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or there could have been trust issues or a hundred other reasons why relationships fail that have nothing to do with sex.”
“Yes. Quite possibly,” he agrees. “Or, I’m right, and we should take it slow.”
I need alcohol. Lots of it. “So none of my very valid points matter because you’ve already made up your mind.”
He says nothing.
“You know, this is probably me overthinking shit. But I’m actually feeling slightly slut shamed for wanting to have sex with you sooner rather than later.”
“What?” He scowls. “No.”
“I thought taking it slow was this fun game we were both playing. But now it feels very much like you’re wearing the pants of judgment.”
His forehead furrows. “Alice, no. Absolutely not. We are going to have sex and lots of it, I promise you. We’re just taking it slow.”
“I officially hate that word.”
“And this is not about me not wanting you. Do not doubt yourself,” he says. “When I masturbate in the shower, you are the undisputed star of the show. Both morning and night.”
I blink. “That was actually kind of hot. Say it again.”
“That this is not about me not wanting you?”
“No. The other bit.”
“Do not doubt yourself or us.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I want to throw things at you,” I confess. “Not necessarily sharp or even particularly heavy hard-hitting objects. But…you know…things.”
There’s laughter in his eyes now. “You want me to repeat the bit about masturbating while thinking about you, huh? Would you like to know specific fantasies or do you just enjoy me talking dirty to you in general?”
I’m not panting. That’s someone else. “You can’t tell me you’ve masturbated thinking about me and then ask me to wait to have sex. It’s unreasonable.”
“And yet I’m doing it.” He collects the used plates and utensils to take back inside, returning with another couple of beers in hand. “Now, the next question is, why are you trying to rush things between us?”
“Perhaps I’m just interested in what’s in your pants.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’d be delighted to send you a dick pic.” He passes me a beer with a grin. “Dad always said to ensure our digital footprint was as light and legal as possible. But what with me having missed your last twenty-two birthdays, a nicely lit shot of my junk is the least I can do. I’ll even pick out an arty filter for you.”
I snort/laugh. So ladylike. “I’ll be sure to use it as the wallpaper on my cell.”
“I would hope so.” He settles back in his seat opposite me. For all of the beauty of the stars and the city lights, nothing beats just staring at him. “What are you thinking about?”
“You know you use humor as a kind of defense system, right? As a way to keep people at a distance.”
His brows rise. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Hmm.”
“I wonder if we have a bit of that in common, hiding behind wit and sarcasm.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I can’t entirely discount his words. Not when deep down I know there’s an element of truth to them. So instead, I say, “Maybe.”
“My first instinct is to say something clever here, so I guess that proves your point. But I’m going to resist the urge and just give you the truth.” For a long moment, he stares at me. “I want this to work, Alice. I need it to work.”
“But