Page 63 of Dr. Intern

I prod my cheek with my tongue. “I mean obviously I like sex, and kissing, and everything that comes between. It usually feels good,” I add, as I consider how to explain myself. “But I don’t know how to answer your questions, because truthfully, I’ve never taken the time to explore myself like that.”

Beau’s thick brows knit together momentarily before he wraps his big arms around me. I snuggle into him, appreciating the warmth and comfort of his embrace, like he’s letting me know that he’s a safe space.

“I’m sorry I assumed. That was wrong of me,” he says, squeezing me closer. “So you’ve never made yourself come?”

“No,” I admit warily, thankful that my face is smashed against his hard chest, because I can feel my blush deepen.

It’s not like how to orgasm is taught in schools. We learn how to avoid pregnancy and how to manage your period. Female masturbation is seen as this taboo thing that nobody ever talks about. I honestly don’t think my friends and I have once discussed sex, let alone orgasms.

I may outwardly seem outgoing and curious, but I guess I never considered that curiosity in terms of sex. The only reason I remotely know what to do around men is because of previous boyfriends or movies. And that’s always been fine . . . until now.

“What about the other guys?” Beau asks, his face incredulous as he tilts my chin up.“They never made you come either?”

Now I feel guilty. If I don’t know my own body, how can I expect another man to know it? It’s not their fault that I’m not sure what I like.

“It’s not like the sex was bad!” I explain, knowing my words aren’t coming off the way I want them to. “Like I said, it usually felt good.”

He swallows, like he’s considering his words carefully. “Claire, if you take anything from this conversation let it be this. Sex should always feel good. If it doesn’t, your partner is the problem. Not you.”

“I guess I just never told them.” My eyes close as guilt washes over me.

Beau sighs, slowly running his fingers up my back. “Great sex requires constant communication and checking in. Pleasure goes both ways, and I’m never going to take my own unless I know you’ll also have yours. Do you understand that?”

“Okay . . .”

“I’m serious. If I do something you don’t like, or I need to move slightly to hit the right spot, you need to tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

I bite my lower lip, feeling horrible that I derailed our fun. “Sorry, I’m defective.”

Beau leans down to kiss my forehead. “You’re not defective, pretty girl. You just haven’t had a chance to be broken in yet.”

“Well, let’s crack that whip,” I smirk, brushing one hand down his ridiculously sculpted chest.

He winces and stops my fingers before they can get to his waistband. He’s still rock hard, and I can’t imagine that it’s very comfortable.“We’re not cracking anything until you take the time to learn about your body. I need to know you’re confident telling me what you like.”

I groan dramatically as Beau pulls my hands away, placing them around his neck. “First things first. Have you ever watched porn?”

Unable to help myself, I roll my eyes. “Why would I have watched porn if I’ve never even masturbated?”

The word feels crass coming out of my mouth. For some reason, I can say everything else known to man, but the word masturbate makes me feel like a whore in church.

Beau chuckles warmly, pushing a stray hair out of my face. “Fair point. What about those books of yours that you leave lying around the condo? I imagine with naked men on the cover, there’s bound to be some sex.”

“They’re half naked, thank you very much,” I snap.

He shoots me a look that says he’s not playing games, and I relent. “I mean, yeah of course there’s sex and it’s hot. Sometimes super hot. But I don’t read any of the wild romance stuff like Cass and Morgan, so usually it’s just a little dirty talk and your basic love making.”

“How does reading make you feel?”

I consider his question for a moment before I respond.

“Good, I guess,” I confess, thinking back to the last book I read about a billionaire who fell in love with a farm girl. “I don’t know, probably a little turned on.”

Beau’s lips twitch with amusement. “Have you ever wanted to do something about how turned on you are when you read?”

“Sure, yeah, but—”

He interrupts me. “But what?”

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