Page 44 of Tell Me What You Want

“Why?”

“Because my life isn’t exactly what you’d call normal.”

I know my face must betray my confusion. I don’t understand.

“Jude, your life is full of relationships and commitments,” he says before I have a chance to ask for an explanation. “But those things have been obsolete for me for a very long time.” He touches my face with his hand. “I like you, I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want to lie to you. What I like is sex with you. I like to take you, to get between your legs and see your face when you come. But I’m afraid you’re not going to like a lot of my games. And I’m not talking about S and M. I’m talking about sex, just sex.”

“I’m a normal woman, without great pretensions, who works for your company. I have my dad, my sister, and my niece, all of whom I adore, and, until yesterday, a cat who was my best friend. I’m a coach for a girls’ soccer team. I have friends with whom I enjoy games, take vacations, go to movies, and dine out. You may be wondering why I’m telling you all this, right?”

Eric nods.

“I’m not a knockout, I don’t like to dress provocatively, and I don’t bother to try. My relationships with men have been normal, nothing out of this world. You know: girl meets boy, they like each other, they sleep together. But no one has ever managed to find the part of me that you have, and in such little time. I never imagined that curiosity could drive me so crazy. I never imagined I could do what I’m doing with you. I can’t say no because my whole body—all of me—wants to do what you want to do. I hate to be given orders, and even more so in bed. But inexplicably, I let you do it. Never in my life could I have imagined that a stranger would demand sex with just a look and that I would acquiesce ...”

“Jude ...”

“No, let me finish,” I say, putting my hand over his mouth. “Whether I want to admit it or not,I loved what happened at your place the other day. Whenever I’ve thought about it since, I’ve gotten excited. In fact, on Sunday, I used the vibrator and thought of you and had a marvelous orgasm while I replayed what happened in your room.”

Eric grins.

“As I said at the beginning of this conversation, I’m no expert on sex, but I like what I’ve experienced with you. It thrills and excites me, and I’m up for another round.”

“Even without a commitment on my part?”

“Even without that.”

Eric moves his head in understanding.

“And please, let me free you from the promise to not touch me. Kiss me and say something, because I’m going to die from embarrassment over all the crazy things I’ve just said.”

“You’re exciting me, sweetness,” he murmurs.

I smile, a bit embarrassed.

“You can imagine what I feel like then, having just said all that.”

Eric moves a lock of hair from my face.

“Here’s what I know: Your full name is Judith Flores Garcia. You’re twenty-five years old. Your family is your father, your sister, and your niece. From what I’ve seen, you don’t have a boyfriend, but there are men who want you. I know where you live and where you work. I know your phone numbers. I know you drive a Ferrari very well, that you like to sing, and that you’re not embarrassed to do it in front of me. Today I learned you’re a soccer coach. I know you like strawberries, chocolate, Coke, candy, and soccer, and that if you get anxious, you get a rash on your neck.”

He gives me a look of satisfaction.

“From the way you treated your cat, I know you love animals and that you’re a good friend to your friends. You’re curious and stubborn, sometimes excessively so, and that drives me nuts, but you’re also the sexiest and most frustrating woman I’ve ever met in my life, and I know I like that. Right now, that’s what I know, and that seems enough. And now that you’ve freed me from my promise, I’m going to touch you and kiss you!”

“Good!” I say, raising my arms to greet him.

“Now that we’ve worked all that out, I need you to accept my proposal so I can get to know you better and so you can be with me while I’m in Spain,” he adds. “This week, we’ll be in Barcelona. I have two important meetings on Thursday and Friday. We can devote the weekend, if you’d like, to sex. What do you think?”

“Your name is Eric Zimmerman,” I say, brushing his indifference aside. “You’re German, and your father ...”

But his face goes dark again, and he interrupts me.

“As a personal favor, please never mention my father again. Otherwise, go on.”

That stuns me.

“You’re a pathological Mr.Bossy Pants, and that’s all I know about you, except that you’re very curious and you like to play sex games. Even so, I’d like to get to know you better.”

I can sense the battle he’s having with himself—he doesn’t know whether to open up to me or not. Then he gets up and pulls me with him. He kisses me and I kiss him back. Seconds later, he pulls his mouth away.

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