Page 54 of Look, Don't Touch

“Woof!” I give him the biggest eye roll of my life.

He makes a face, acknowledging the clichéd atrocity of his line, and then moves into the room. His gaze never leaves me and it’s a new sensation. Awareness prickles all over my body as though his gaze is a touch. He unbuttons his navy suit jacket and sits, smoothing a hand over his striped navy tie and light blue shirt. The man barely fits in the chair and I’m only now noticing.

I swallow and glance away. Too soon, my eyes are back on the enigma. He’s looking up at me from where he sits, yet he emanates power. For a brief second, I wonder if he’d be dominant in the bedroom, if he could ever get to that step.

My knuckles go instantly white.

Because the possibility captivates me.

“Please, sit.” He flourishes a big hand toward my chair as though this is his office.

Obediently, I sit. “Tell me about your first kiss.”

His inscrutable eyes sweep from the tips of my boot-hidden toes to the crown of my head in a thorough perusal. Then his gaze levels on me. “I will.”

“Great,” I chirp. “When?”

The corners of his mouth tip up. “After it happens.”

I nod and try my damnedest to keep my lips together and my jaw from hitting the floor. No touching. No kissing. No-go on the naked friend who hoped to be a lover.

Oh my God. He’s a virgin.

My mouth opens, but no words come out.

Therapist of the year.

He holds up a finger and then rests it with the rest of his on the arm of the chair. “I’m pretty sure you’re under the assumption that I’ve never had sex.”

“It’s not my job to assume,” I remind myself.

“Can you train away human nature?”

I shrug.

“I’ve had sex, Hailey. Under very specific parameters.”

Suddenly, I’m roasting in my slacks and high-neck blouse. Someone open a window. I need to toss myself out of it immediately.

“Parameters, not a very sexy word.” I clear my throat. “What are they?”

“All my consensual experiences happen in a sex club, where the participant has been vetted, is bent over and tied to a bench. Typically, I go in, do my thing, and then leave.”

Okay, I’m sure I have sweat stains on my underarms now. My palms are slick. I rub them on my clothed thighs.

What are the chances that his kink is the yen to my yang?

I mean, in Manhattan alone, there are over a dozen public kink clubs. Not to mention all the private groups and rich people parties held across the city every week. Eight and a half million people live in New York City. Not to mention the surrounding areas, plus tourists.

In my club alone, if I weren’t so damn picky, I could have a list of two-hundred guys willing to do what I wanted and half as many women.

“Kink is a perfectly acceptable way to share sexual experiences. For many, it’s safer than the usual methods of hooking up. For those with specific needs to feel comfortable, it’s an amazing outlet.”

There’s something in his eyes and the set of his jaw, but I can’t decipher it. He gives no words to help clue me into his thoughts.

“Have you ever touched the other participant beyond the essential?”

“No.” He props his ankle onto his knee and straightens his pant leg. “Not until very recently.”

---