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I want her to continue talking, so I nod, go up and place the order, then come back to the table.
“What else, then?” I ask. “Come on, you might as well tell me all of it now you’ve started.”
She shrugs, speaking softly, obviously conscious of being overhead. “I’m curious about sex,” she admits. “It’s never been a big part of my life. Because it was so perfunctory with Ian, I never encouraged it, and I was happy to wait for him to suggest it, which was usually once a week, often on a Saturday night, after he’d had a few beers. Other than that, I’ve never thought about it much. The world’s obsession with sex has always bewildered me. Books and movies talk about a level of pleasure and enjoyment I’ve never experienced. I’ve assumed it’s a fabrication, an El Dorado that people are constantly searching for, but you can never reach.”
Her gaze rises to meet mine. She smiles. “You look completely confused.”
“I am. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend more time on making it better for you.”
“It was always the same: perfunctory and lackluster, even though—in the beginning anyway—I tried hard to make it better. That’s why it stung so much when he criticized me. It was so unfair.” She stops, swallows, and has a big mouthful of her cocktail.
“Fucking idiot,” I say, and she laughs.
“Yeah.” She trails the tip of a wedge through the sour cream, then says shyly, “So you don’t agree? You think it’s okay for a girl to suggest things in the bedroom?”
“Of course I do,” I say gently. “Look, Ian obviously had lots of issues. He’d boiled sex down to its absolute basics—Tab A intoSlot B. It doesn’t sound as if he was even interested in other slots much.”
She giggles, then presses her fingers to her lips. “No.”
I nod. “I’m sure he’s not alone in thinking of it as a physical act, one step removed from shaking hands with the milkman. But it can be so much more than that.”
When she lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes are filled with curiosity and longing.
She opens her mouth to say something. Closes it again. Sucks her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine.
I’m three cocktails down, which was a dumb thing to do, because although I’m far from drunk, I’ve had just enough to unlock the barriers holding me back.
I’m done with being told what I can and can’t have.
“Go on,” I murmur. “Ask me.”
Her gaze slips to my mouth. “Would you show me?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
Her gaze comes back to mine, and I watch her inhale, her eyes flaring.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
She nods. We finish our drinks, rise from the table, and head back through the bar, then across the foyer and out to the path leading to our rooms.
“Yours or mine?” I ask as we arrive at the doors.
“Mine,” she says, opening the door, and we go inside, letting it close behind us.
The moon is now high in the sky, and stars are popping out on the black velvet. She takes off her sandals and jacket, then crosses to the sliding doors and opens them a little, letting in the night air.
I toe off my shoes and hang my jacket over the chair, and the two of us stand looking out at the view for a moment. Theair is heavy with the exotic scent of the frangipani outside, and it feels thick with anticipation.
I turn and look down at her. Without her sandals, she’s quite a bit shorter than me. Her eyes are wide and filled with yearning.
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. I take off my glasses and put them on the table, turn to face her, then take her face in my hands.
“Don’t be nervous,” I murmur.
“I can’t help it.” She swallows hard, and her eyes shine. “What if I really am bad in bed, Fraser? What if he was right? I don’t think I could bear it if I disappointed you.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, enjoying her answering shiver. “You won’t disappoint me.”