Page 65 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“I think I agree,” she says, her eyes darkening. “Not that I’d really know.”

My heart stops. “What does that mean?”

She sucks as her lip, her white teeth peeking out. “I just haven’t had it in years, is all.”

“That’s a shame,” I tell her. “There’s just something about looking into a woman’s eyes as you watch how much pleasure you bring her,” I smile, watching her squirm.

“I’m sure they’ve all had to fake it at least a little bit,” she responds with a smirk.

I shake my head. “I can promise you they haven’t.”

“Is that the only one you like?”

“Nah. I’m not sure what it’s called, but I love taking her from behind as she lays on her stomach,” I act like I’m thinking for a moment, “while giving her a backrub.”

Although I’m really only having fun with her, enjoyinghow squirmy she’s getting while also looking criminally interested, I’m not exactly lying.

Sex is amazing. It’s something I’ve definitely enjoyed far too much throughout my life. But the thought of having sex with someone I actually really loved is a whole other ballgame, and one I have yet to truly experience in my life.

And I’ve been jealous of it.

“I’m sure they’ve appreciated that,” she tells me, her face impassive.

I run my thumb along my lip. “They did.”

I’ve never tried it.

“Well,” she says, squaring her shoulders and avoiding my gaze, “your turn.”

“What’s your favorite sex position, Crosby?”

She bites her lip. “I don’t think I have one.”

This surprises me.

“Why don’t you have one?”

She lets out a sigh. “I answered your question, that counts as a new one. My turn. Why don’t you show everyone this side of you?”

I’m confused about what she means, and when I tilt my head, she continues.

“Why do you put up a front, Leo Warner?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

I gulp. “I like being in control,” I say simply.

“Leo, you’ve done some wonderful things. Don’t reduce your good deeds to just simply wanting to be in control.”

I stare at her. Really take her in.

Her warm brown eyes are hard as they stare into my soul, so intense they verge on calculating. Her hands are in her lap, her posture relaxed.

She’s been wanting to ask me this for a long time.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Scratching my head, I try to think of an answer that won’t infuriate her.

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