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“I didn’t talk aboutpartners. I said, in general, that I’ve never wanted to come inside a woman before and that I don’t share my bed after sex.”
“Fine. Case closed. I get it. I’ll leave now.”
“The hell you will. I meant that I’ve never shared a bed with anyone else. It’s different with us. If it were up to me, I’d tie you up in this room, naked and spread out for me, so I could fuck you every night.”
The shock his words cause me has nothing to do with the fear of being at a man’s mercy. That part, with him being the man in question, is incredibly arousing.
What leaves me speechless is hearing him admit that he wants me so much that such thoughts cross his mind. This isn’t just about sex; it’s about needing someone.
“I’ve never done more than fuck, but I don’t want you to walk out of my life because I’ve hurt you somehow. And I have a feeling that’s exactly what I’ve done.”
“Why do you care about me?”
“I want you. I want us to be together, but apparently, I don’t know how to be a boyfriend in the complete sense of the word. As I said yesterday, to me, it’s just a label. You’ll have to show me what you need, Brooklyn.”
Athanasios seems omnipotent. Hearing him admit that he’s willing to change his behavior for me leaves me speechless.
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask.
“Intimacy. I’ve never shared it with anyone.”
I approach him slowly and look into his eyes.
He’s gorgeous, sexy, and takes my breath away, but suddenly, I feel like I’m the more experienced one in this room.
“You want to be intimate with me?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“You were looking at me strangely when I woke up,” I say, taking a step forward and resting my forehead against his chest.
His arms wrap around me. “I was analyzing us, like I do with everything in my life, Brooklyn, because that’s how I operate.”
“I don’t know how to give myself halfway. If this is a relationship, I want everything, or I’ll feel like I’m just your sexual partner.”
“You’re not.”
I lift my head to look at him. “You said you’ve never shared intimacy with anyone? How intimate have you ever been with someone?”
“Sex. No sleeping. No cuddling.”
“Showers?”
“No.”
“Come here,” I say, taking his hand. “Let’s go shower.”
Brooklyn
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When he mentionedhis lack of experience with true intimacy in a relationship and I took the lead with the idea of starting with a shared shower, I lived a brief illusion where I thought I’d have to guide him.
I forgot who I’m dealing with.
Athanasios may not have had relationships, but as he himself says, he’s a control freak. The moment we entered the bathroom, he quickly understood what I was trying to do: take a step beyond the physical.
He sat me on the sink counter, turned on the shower, and adjusted the water temperature. When it seemed satisfactory, he picked me up and carried me into the shower, which, I estimate, could easily fit about twelve people.