“I shouldn’t have said it.” Seemed like a safe answer.
“So you meant it, you just regret saying it to my face?”
The slit-eyed look she gave him said there would be no bonus points for honesty. He wasn’t even in the same realm as his comfort zone anymore. Casual dating and random sex never required much thought or carefully plotted script. No wonder he’d been so good at it.
“I’m going to go with … yeahhh—no?
“Yeahhh—no?”
A single slow nod. It was best to just stop talking.
Tilting her head to the side, she twisted her lips, eyes still narrowed. She was good—Jillian good—at ball busting.
“How am I doing?” she asked.
Gunner mimicked her head tilt as Jackson’s eyes flitted between her and the dog.
“Uh …” On the ride there he convinced himself she was worth it. Testicle-sacrificing worth it. At that exact moment he wasn’t sure anyone was worth it.
“You have any balls left?” she grinned.
Jutting his head forward, his eyes widened for a second before narrowing into a scowl.
Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t hate me. I decided everything you said was right, even if it did hurt. I’m going to have a talk with Maddie. She’s just been too busy to make time. I tried calling you about twenty minutes ago. Jillian answered, you must have left your cell phone.”
Jackson patted his hands over his pockets, she was correct.
“I called to apologize, hoping that it wasn’t too late. You broke my heart a little when I cleaned your house and you weren’t there. I thought you were really mad at me and didn’t want to see me. But then Jillian explained the situation and…” she bit her lips together for a moment “…don’t hate me, but she said I should make you sweat a little.”
It was clear that Jillian craved the taste of her own blood. Jackson would happily oblige her as soon as he got home.
“Thanks for reminding me why I have meaningless, sex-only relationships.” Turning, he walked back to his car.
*
Something went horribly wrong. Ryn watched in shock as he returned to his car. The only part of a man more sensitive than the aforementioned testicles was the male ego—like a Georgia peach.
“Well … wait! Oh my god! You’re really mad. It was a joke. I’m sorry.” She chased after him.
When she grabbed his arm, he turned, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin ever. He looked like a joker.
“You! Not. Funny.” Pointing her finger at him, she gave him a cold glare. There were two possibilities: kill him or attack him. A week and a half earlier, after Jackson took her home on her birthday, she swore things couldn’t get worse. They did. She started her period.
Hello ovulation.
Ryn thought about sex all the time. Not normal fleeting thoughts of sex. Forty-year-old-whacked-out-hormones type thinking about sex. Woman-who-hadn’t-had-sex-in-a-very-long-time type of thoughts. When images of having sex with Humpty Dumpty—the mailman with a combover—in his white box on wheels crossed the conscious part of the brain, it was time for therapy.
“I’m extremely funny. What are you talking about?”
“I…” she shook her head with a soft chuckle “…I don’t know how to navigate this. Maddie came along before I had a chance to experience my young, vibrant, and wild years. The longest relationship I’ve had, outside of my debacle of a marriage, lasted two months and that was five years ago.”
“So?”
“So…” she shrugged “…what is this with us? If not random sex, what’s in it for you?”
Drawing in a long breath, he wet his lips. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“Because you don’t know?”
With a slow head shake, he bit the corner of his lip. “No. I know. I’m just unsure if you want the truth or if you want me to say what you want to hear … which might not be the truth.”
In all honesty, she didn’t know either. Maybe it was too soon to even worry about defining their relationship or think very far into the future. Time wouldn’t make the conversation easier, so she chose to hear the truth.
“I want the truth.”
There wasn’t a second of hesitation before he answered with steadfast resolution.
“I want a wife. I want kids. I want home to mean something so much greater than an address. I want sex, lots of sex, with the same person for the rest of my life.”
Once again, that decade between them spanned the distance of eternity.
He shrugged as she gave him a blank look. “You wanted the truth.”
“I did.” Ryn nodded slowly.
“So … it’s your turn. What do you want?” He leaned back against his car, hands shoved into his front pockets.
“Wow,” she breathed. “I haven’t given it much thought. My mind is always in the past, reliving that whole nightmare. I guess I’m just so grateful to be alive and out of that situation that I’ve never allowed myself to think very far into the future.”
“Except for our wedding. You did agree to marry me.”
“Except for that.” She winked, giving him a big smile. Talking about their imaginary wedding shot to the top of her favorite pastime list.
“Today. If you could do absolutely anything right now, what would it be?”
Keeping her gaze locked to his, she stared and then stared some more. The smile on her face grew with each passing second.
“Truth?” she asked.
“Always.”
“I want to see your tattoos … all of them.”
*
Truth or dare turned into a bad idea, times ten. Sex. Would it have really been so hard to just ask Jackson for sex? Instead, they were engaged in the most awkward game of show and tell ever. Times ten.
“I was kidding.” She wasn’t.
Ryn chewed her lip like rawhide as she sat on her bed—nerves of a virgin or sacrificial lamb. The exact second after her wish tumbled from her lips, Jackson grabbed her hand, dragging her inside the house and straight to her bedroom.
He shrugged off his shirt. She gulped.
“Uh … the blinds are open.”
He unbuttoned his jeans. She gulped again.
“Maybe … um, maybe that’s enough. My God, you look like a human canvas. It’s uh … a lot to take in all at once. We should maybe do this in phases.”
He smirked. Confidence bled from every inch of him. Where to begin? The man was born to be inked. A few bold black words interspersed with intense colors: roses, hearts, branches, a dragon, numbers aligned in dates, musical notes.
“Are you hungry?” Ryn squeaked. “It’s getting late. You know what they say about eating after eight at night. It … it all goes to your ass.”
He turned his back to her and slowly slid down his pants and briefs at the same time. She no longer could swallow. Her mouth fell open. Drooling came next.
“Oh … okay, I see that’s not an issue for you.”
He stepped out of his jeans, completely naked before her. “Do I meet your expectations?”
The room felt smaller, too much light, not enough air.
“Exceeded,” she whispered with a breathy voice.