Page 63 of Chasing After You
“Thank you, Mirabelle. I’m not sure why you feel like you’re inexperienced, I’m not sure I’ve ever come in my pants before,” Henry admits, finally untangling our bodies. My mouth parts in shock, and I’m a little sad I missed getting to see Henry come undone. I look down at his pants as if needing to see proof he isn’t telling me that to make me feel better, but there’s definitely a stain on the front of his grey sweats. They’re still tented, and my mouth waters at the idea of trying to take him in my mouth.
“Do you want help?” I ask, and Henry shakes his head.
“I’ll take care of it in the shower like I have been, but maybe next time. There’s no rush.”
Like I have been.
I slide off the dresser, and I should be pissed I have to jump into the shower again, but I’m not mad in the slightest. Does that mean Henry has been thinking about me while jerking off? What does that mean?
“Henry, wait?”
He stops immediately, looking back at me.
I can’t ask him about that. “What happens next?” I blurt out instead, and he tilts his head, a playful smirk quirking the corner of his mouth up.
“Make a list of things you want to try, and things you think you need to get better at. We’ll go from there,” he says.
Despite how exhausted I am, I know I won’t be sleeping at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mirabelle
“OH, HE’S GOOD,” JJ says, laughing at the dilemma I’ve found myself in. I roll my eyes, looking out at the stadium from where I’m camped out in our family’s suite for my lunch. The world is quiet up here, especially in the middle of chaotic days trying to juggle everything for Stacey and prove that I’m still pulling my weight with the other interns.
“Yeah, I’m aware.” I groan, covering my face. I’ve spent the better part of the last few days trying to make this list, but so far I haven’t been able to write anything down.
“Like, I might need to write some of that shit down. Why the hell am I studying mathematics when I could be studying English and learning to put my degree to use by wooing girls? I mean, Henry’s a good-looking dude, and I already have a hard time looking away from him on the football field because of how he plays. But he also says shit like, ‘You’re the sun in the middle of a fucking hurricane.’ No wonder you’ve been holding out for him,” JJ says.
“Shut up, JJ. Does that mean you’re done trying to find Marley?” I ask, taking a sip of my latte.
“No, it doesn’t. She’s out there, and I’ll find her when I’m supposed to. In the meantime, can I ask that you don’t call me from the bathroom immediately after checking things off the list like you did with Emily?”
I snort, twisting the necklace I’m wearing today between my fingers. “It was an emergency, but I can promise you that I won’t call you from the bathroom if anything happens.” Nothing can happen until I make the goddamn list, but when Henry said to make a list, how many did he mean? Five? Ten? How many is too many?
“If? It sounds like he’s willing to do anything you want. What do you have so far?” JJ asks, and I can’t help laughing.
“Not a single fucking thing so you have no reason to worry about me calling you afterward.”
My brother sputters on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. What?”
I know. I’m awful. “Henry hasn’t brought it up, but we’ve been swamped at work so it’s not like there’s been an opportunity to have a conversation about it. Hence why I’m calling you for help.”
“Sorry to pop your bubble, but I’m a virgin so I’m probably not the best person to help you fill out your golden ticket to sex.”
I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the analogy. “Don’t call it that. You’re making it sound like Henry’s dick is a trip to Willy Wonka’s factory.”
“Maybe it is.” JJ laughs, clearly finding this amusing. “There’s seriously nothing you want to do?”
That’s definitely not the issue. Reading romance books has given me a very active imagination as to what sex is supposed to be like, but I’ve found the real thing to be rather lackluster to say the least.
“There’s plenty I want to do, but how many is too many?”
If the whole point of this was to get me out of my head, then I’m failing miserably already.
“Mira, I love you, but as your brother, I cannot help you make this list, and if you love me, you won’t ask me to.”
“I know, I know. This is something I need to do myself,” I say, letting out a long sigh. I swirl the latte in my hand, the melting ice cubes clinking together. “I’ve been thinking about calling Mom.”
