Page 19 of Audiophile

“I want you to live vibrantly.” He’s watching our hands, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, or himself. “Maybe this is fate trying to remind you of what you could have. To remember that sex can be beautiful and fulfilling, despite the past. Because the last person who touched you should never be the person who hurt you.”

His pain is etched into each line of his face. “Reed—”

He shakes his head, throwing off his somber moment, and smiles up at me. “You’re freshly single, you should be out having the best sex of your life, not shut away like a nun.”

“My dad always wanted me to be a nun,” I note, losing track of what I’d wanted to say. My head is filled with helium, but is also extraordinarily heavy.Waytoo much wine. I’m trashed. “But I doubt nuns drink or listen to erotica twice a week. Ha! I take that back. I’msurethey indulge in communion wine.”

“Petra?” Reed asks. In my silence, his smile grows and grows, accompanying laughing eyes. “Twice a week?”

“Shit.” I drop my head into my free hand.

“It’s routine?” he asks.

Giggles sweep over me in the same moment as mortification, and I shut my eyes against both. “Go away!”

“I can’t, now.” Reed’s voice drips in my ear as he bends close. “I want to know everything. Why those days? What do you do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“How do you do it? Which one is your favorite?” His question glides down my spine like a lover’s touch, and all of me pebbles at the sensation. I can’t handle it. If I let this continue I’m going to sleep with him, and that’s terrifying.

I rip my hands away—angry at myself—and meet his intense, questioning gaze. “You know what? If it will take away the mystery, fine. It’s any day I have the house to myself, because I had to move back in with my parents. That, in itself, is humiliating. I don’t use vibrators because my mother is asnoopand a bloodhound, so my bed isn’t an option. And my favorite—”

I choke off my words because speaking my fantasies is a lot like undressing in front of him. But Reed’s eyes are bright as he urges me on. He touches the back of his hand against my hot cheek and lets it fall. “You’re pink. Don’t stop there. What makes you tick, baby?”

The endearment does me in. So many nights he’s moaned it in my ear, but it’s different with him next to me. The difference between a cold speaker and his warm breath on my jaw is night and day. Between that and the wine, I can’t keep anything a secret.

The fight drains out of me. “It’s hormonal. Soft and sweet, rough and demanding, it depends on my cycle.”

His fingers are gentle as he leans in and brushes my hair back. “Soft? A sweet boyfriend? Positive affirmations?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and let my eyes shut to protect me from the eager way he’s looking at me.

“And what type of rough, baby? Blindfolded? Bound?” His voice is enthralling, and I ache for him all over. I should leave. I’m beyond tipsy, and each admission only provides more ammunition for him to play with me.

“Yes.”

He hums, fingers sparking fires as they trail down to my collar. “Darker? Pain?”

I shake my head. “Only in a fantasy.”

“Degrading?”

My answer is firm and immediate. “No.”

“Daddy kink?”

I snap my eyes open to glare at him, my face red. “Shut up!”

“That’s a yes.” Reed’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, and his whole face transforms.

My heart runs a marathon beneath my ribs, leaving me hot and breathless. “Oh my God! I’m leaving now.”

Reed strokes a path down my arm and twines our fingers together. “That’s a double yes. It’s okay to admit it. It’s not really my thing anymore, but it’s cute that you’re shy about it. You need someone to take care of you, Petra?”

“You’re a real ass,” I complain, but don’t push him away. How can a voice sound so smooth and rough at the same time? His words play against my skin as deftly as his fingers. “I take care of myself.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a shrug. “But I’m lonely, and so are you.”

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