Sydney seemed to be enjoying the view the way she did everything—with ample curiosity and a lot of questions. “What is your height, do you think?” she asked. “I wonder what the actual depth of this glass is and how much pressure it can withstand. Do you think we can figure out which of those specks down there is Ryan Seacrest?”
“I don’t have answers to any of those questions,” I told her. “But I need some answers from you.” I moved in beside her, and took one of her hands in mine to get her attention.
She peeled her forehead off the glass and looked over at me. “Okay. What are the questions?”
There was a knock at the door and she gave a sound of impatience as I went to answer it. It was the assistant bartender with our drinks on a tray. He brought them inside, and placed them on the table between two club chairs that faced the view. When he had exited as discreetly as he arrived, I gestured to one of the chairs.
“Have a seat.”
Sydney did and picked up her martini and took a tiny sip, back to gazing out the window.
I did the same, swallowing a decent amount, letting it burn its way down my throat to my gut. Beckett was right. I was wound tight. I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk away from the idea of fucking Sydney all night now that it was in my head, but I would if I had to. I would protect myself, first and foremost.
“You understand this is just sex, right? No relationship, no texting each other or following each other on social media, or anything like that.” That was a deal breaker for me. I couldn’t deal with expectations right now. Not after what had gone down with me and my ex, Carmen.
“I understand. I’m not looking for a relationship. I just got out of one and I’m finishing law school this semester. I need to study for the bar exam. That will take all my time and attention.”
I nodded. “Good. Do you have a condom? Because I only have the emergency one I keep in my travel bag.”
“I have two in my purse. Also, I have an IUD, so that’s double the protection.”
That would work. Three should be adequate. “I have to be back in New Orleans in three days. After tonight, we can decide if you need another night or two.”
“I can guarantee I will,” she said.
I wasn’t sure if she meant she would need more education or just more dick, and I fought the urge to smile. She sounded so earnest. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, if we do this. Because most importantly, you need to prove to me you can handle a few things before we go any further.”
“What, like anal? Or rim jobs? Oh, or maybe you mean bondage or voyeurism?”
I tried not to laugh or sigh. Both of which I wanted to do. “No. You need to stop talking.”
“Okay, I’m shutting up. I’m listening.” But then she kept talking anyway. “What do I need to handle?” She glanced down at my crotch. “Do you have an unusually large cock? I’m willing to give it a try.”
That momentarily distracted me. Her enthusiasm was definitely a turn-on. “I mean I need you to prove you can be quiet for more than thirty seconds.” I had no idea what she considered an unusually large cock. She could decide that for herself when she saw it.
“What do you mean?” She looked taken aback. She actually reared back away from me like I had said something scandalous.
“You need to prove to me that you can remain at least somewhat silent during sex.”
“But, why? Isn’t it important to communicate needs and wants?”
“Of course. But I have a very strong feeling, based on everything I’ve seen about you so far, that you talk too much during sex. Probably even nonstop.” She opened her mouth to protest but I put my hand over her mouth. “Without stopping for air, Sydney. About things that may or may not be relevant to what is occurring at that very moment. Which can kill the vibe, break a man’s concentration, suck the rhythm out of it.”
“I don’t think I agree with you,” she said from behind my hand. “One, I don’t talk too much at all, in bed or out.”
That was fucking laughable. I raised my eyebrows. She either didn’t notice or chose to ignore me. I dropped my hand.
“Two, I think it’s important for partners to share what they’re feeling.”
“Are you in charge here? Are you the teacher?”
God, the pout on her face was glorious. I struggled not to grin.
“Your body will let me know what you’re feeling. And once we’ve established that it is in fact possible for you to not say every thought that pops into your head out loud, we can work on identifying what things might be important for you to share with me during sex, and what might not be.”
She pursed her lips. “Fine. How do we establish that?”
“For starters, for the next thirty minutes I want to see if you can go without talking.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Are you serious? When?”
I pulled my phone out and set it on the table between us, next to her martini glass. I found the stopwatch feature. “Starting now.” I hit the button and it started rolling down from thirty minutes.
Sydney opened her mouth. I gave her a look. She closed it. She wrinkled her nose. She took a breath like she was going to rant, then clamped her mouth shut again.
This was already worth it.
Chapter Four
Sydney
Oleksander couldn’t be serious. I was trying to weigh just how serious he was as I stared at the timer ticking down on his phone.
“I don’t understand why you get to talk and I don’t,” I said, without thinking.
To my shock, he reached over and slapped STOP on the timer. “Because I’m the teacher and this is class. For the record, I never actually said I would be talking though. And now we have to start over with your thirty minutes of silence.” He reset the timer but didn’t start it.
“What? That’s not fair.” That meant I had lost almost ninety seconds. “I don’t really think this is necessary.”
His finger over the screen. “Are you finished? Is this what you want or not?”
I considered my options. Cash and Miles had turned me down. The thought of going in the bathroom with JJ Beckett made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. That wasn’t what I needed or wanted, and to be fair, it was a lot to ask of a man to take on the role of tutor for a self-professed sexual flunkie. Oleksander gave off a very commanding vibe. Like he really would be in charge, and like I would really achieve my goal of better-lover status.
Besides, he was hot as hell. I really, really wanted to see him out of that suit. I had never seen a man with muscles outside of the gym, and let’s be honest, I go to the gym three times a year when I’ve decided flights of stairs shouldn’t make me breathe that hard.
“I feel like fifteen minutes is a more appropriate timeframe,” I said, because who wouldn’t at least attempt to negotiate, right? Lawyer 101.
“Twenty-five.”
“Eighteen.”
He crossed his arms and I knew this would be his final number. “Twenty.”
“Deal.”
I instantly regretted it though as Olek moved the timer down to twenty minutes and started it. I was really supposed to just sit there in silence for twenty minutes without doing anything? Could I look at my phone? Could I walk around? I should have established better parameters.