Page 50 of Bedroom Therapy

It flashed through his mind that if he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms, it might be easier to help her make up her mind. But he wasn’t going to try it since it was just as likely that the move would blow up in his face.

“You described an activity that a lot of people would find objectionable.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

His hands clenched at his sides as he gave her a tight nod. He was thinking he might as well pack up and move out. Or maybe he could sleep out in the car. The comforter was already out there. He could wrap himself up in it. But he stayed where he was, because the idea of leaving her alone when someone meant to do her harm made his stomach tie itself in knots.

She was speaking again, and her words finally filtered through the buzzing in his brain.

“But then I started thinking: do I really find it objectionable? Or am I just projecting what I learned from my mother. Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction.”

He swallowed hard. “Which means what?”

“Which, means that I let myself think about it for a while, and. . . and I. . .” She stopped, finishing the sentence with a little raise of her shoulder.

“You what?” he pressed, feeling that he was getting back control of the situation.

“The idea made me . . . aroused.”

“Good,” he said softly.

“It was exciting, but it was threatening, too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d be putting myself on display.”

“Maybe you’d find out something about yourself.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But I think it’s more important to find out something about us.”

He let that statement hang in the air between them. There were things he could say now, but she wasn’t the only one who was nervous. He fell back on a safe statement. “I’ve never forced a woman into anything she didn’t want to do.”

“And have you done this kind of thing before?”

“No. I’ve been doing things with you that I’ve never done before. Never wanted to do. But being with you has made me . . . adventurous.”

“Oh.”

“I was wandering around the mall, and I started having a fantasy about you. I went into the bedding shop and bought some stuff.”

“You did?”

“It’s in the trunk of my car. And some other things.” Figuring that he might as well take the plunge, he went on rapidly. “What I’d like to do is fix up the bedroom—make it very romantic. Then you can come in, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Fix up the bedroom?” She gave a nervous little laugh. “What—have you been watching those DYI TV shows where two teams of neighbors each fix up an empty house?”

“No. I just got a very strong vision of you in a very sensual setting.” He couldn’t hold back a little grin. “But apparently there are some aspects of DYI that do appeal to me.”

It was a relief that she could relax enough to share the joke. With a small laugh, she said, “Apparently.”

“So—what do you think? Are you willing to try it?”

“If we agree that I can stop—if this . . . game . . . makes me uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” he said quickly, because it was the only answer he could give her.

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