Page 97 of The Parent Trap

My mind is on Thai.

Being away from him has only forced me to some serious and scary revelations. One, that I do indeed miss him, and a lot. Two, that it seems to be possible to develop feelings for someone without realizing it until it hits you all at once, and that this can happen in a matter of weeks. Three, that until Thai, my sex life was lame, and that I’ve been seriously out of touch with my own real desires and needs.

That last one is a doozy.

Don’t get me wrong, I like sex. I always have, ever since I discovered masturbation as a pubescent girl, and then gave my virginity to—well, it was such a forgettable experience that I prefer to not even dwell on it. But since then, solo sex is a daily must, and while I’ve never wanted or had a serious boyfriend, regular partners are also a must. I’m not a one-and-done type. I’ve always liked to go out with a guy for a few weeks or months. I’m too busy for a boyfriend, and my focus has always been on my career, on the business. Honestly, I’m not actually all that different from Thai, in that regard. Weird.

But…I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him. No one makes me feel the way he makes me feel. The realization that’s bowling me over? It’s not all Thai. It’s me. I’ve been sort of accepting that I like and need and want sex, but…god, how do I even put it?

I haven’t examined what I really want. Deep down.

I never let myself feel how badly I want to bewanted.

There, that’s it.

My sexual partners have been a matter of relief. Mutual release, fun, a little bit of feeling good naked.

But no one has ever made me feel truly, deeply desired.

Needed.

No one has ever put my pleasure ahead of his own.

No one has ever made me feel crazy, wild with desperation. Out of control. Willing to do kind of crazy things.

Thai does all this.

And in spades.

He sees me.

He sees what I want. Knows what I need even when I don’t understand it myself. And he gives it to me.

The craziest thing is that I know all this and I haven’t even actually had sex with him.

I get a little shaky at the thought of finally, actually having sex with Thai. How good will it be? If it’s anything like what he can do with his hands and his mouth…I may never recover.

Heat blossoms in me, pooling low in my belly, settling in a fiery ache just above my sex. My thighs press together in a vain attempt to relieve the ache.

I should not have thought about the things Thai did to me with his mouth—what he did to me with his hand. What I did to him withmyhands.

How I want to do it again. With my mouth.

How I want to climb on top of him and ride him until I’m half paralyzed.

Stop, stop, stop.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth and press my thighs together and will Thai Bristow out of my mind.

I know he’ll be asleep when I get back—my flight was delayed due to some mechanical issue, so I won’t be walking through his door until after one in the morning.

Maybe when he feels me climb in bed, he’ll wake up, and we can do things.

Is that selfish?

Being selfish isn’t something I’m good at. But with Thai, I feel different. Maybe I’ll feel comfortable enough waking him up and asking him to make me feel good. However he wants—his choice. I’ll for sure return the favor, because I’m as manic with the need to touch him as I am with the need to be touched.

That’s another part of the realization: I’ve never craved a man the way I crave Thai’s body. Never craved his pleasure. Never found such intense sexual—and yes, emotional—joy from makinghimfeel good. Watching him come apart under my hands in the ocean was one of the most erotic experiences of my life—the other is the moment he kissed me that first time, and then dropped to his knees and gave me an orgasm I have not forgotten and still wake up with wet dreams about.