Page 83 of A Cold Hard Truth

“Nothing. But no one likes to sleep in the wet spot,” Sebastian said. “You’ll learn.”

“A sex bed,” he repeated. “What else?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know much about what we’re doing.”

“A spanking bench maybe.” Remington pointed toward the corner.

“Tell me more about that.”

“Like a sawhorse, but soft.” Remington took a step toward Sebastian and turned him so his back pressed against Remington’s chest. “You kneel on it to allow for access.”

“Access,” Sebastian’s voice scratched roughly against Remington’s ears.

“For spanking.”

“Right.” Sebastian rested his head against Remington’s shoulder. “Do you…Is that something you want to do with me? Or a person? With whomever. Whatever.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s a lot of things I know about that I haven’t tried out.”

“Is that something you wanted to try out?”

“Maybe.” Remington slid his hands down Sebastian’s sides, feeling emboldened as he always did when Sebastian was around.

There was something about Sebastian that sparked certain feelings in Remington’s chest, and they’d been there long before Remington had even thought to dissect them into something understandable. He understood that much like his job, learning how to be the kind of man he wanted to be, the kind of man Sebastian needed him to be, would come with a curve. The tension of their brunch on Sunday and the awkwardness of their earlier phone call were proof of that.

They weren’t sure how to navigate around each other, with sex being one thing and everything else being…everything else. Remington wasn’t sure how to merge the two things together, and he wasn’t even sure if that was what Sebastian wanted. For as much as Sebastian longed for and asked for structure and guidance, he didn’t necessarily come across as someone who was open for romantic encounters.

Whereas Remington….

Curse the books he’d grown up sneaking out of the library.

To him, love was filled with emotional declarations and grand gestures designed to prove intent and desire. Nothing he would ever be capable of or likely to receive. Remington knew he needed to realign his expectations for what a relationship would be like, especially if he were to ever have one with Sebastian.

“When?” Sebastian asked.

“When what?”

“When did you want to try it? Spanking, I mean.”

“Sebastian,” he exhaled.

“I’ve seen movies you know. It’s not always a bad thing. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Sebastian explained.

“I know that.” Remington flexed his fingers against Sebastian’s hips. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“We’ve already fucked, Rem.”

His breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a lie. They had been intimate, or they’d fucked, as Sebastian said. But hadn’t it been more than that?

“I know,” he agreed, even though it felt like a lie. “Did you want me to spank you?”

“Only if you want it.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” he said.

“If you ask me again, the answer is no.”

Remington shoved Sebastian against the wall, one long forearm pressed against the back of Sebastian’s neck. With his other hand, he reached around and worked open Sebastian’s belt and pants until they fell into a puddle at his feet.