Never had this problem with Alex. Guys just move on a much faster timetable—straight to bed, that’s the guy way. Hell, the one time in my life when things felt crystal-clear in the sex department was with Alex, ironically enough. No secret codes, no hidden messages, just two guys dying to do it.
“Is that all you have to say?” I demand of her. “About me wanting to make love to you?”
“Is that the real problem?” she asks, turning to face me. I close my eyes, and ache to tell her everything. About Laurel and how much she holds over me. How scared I am to see her again, after all this time.
I blow out a breath, and instead ask, “How’d it go with Andrea?” Funny, but she smiles up at me, that quirky half-smile of hers that I love so much, and doesn’t look angry in the least.
“Michael Warner, what am I going to do with you?” she reflects tenderly, shaking her head.
“It’s a simple question.”
“So was mine,” she observes, stepping close, and I notice that she’s barefoot with her toenails painted a sexy hot pink. That one simple detail is enough to arouse me. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she urges, slipping her hand into mine, ignoring my cranky mood. “Other than being horny, that is.” Even I have to laugh at that.
I shrug apologetically. “It’s the male dilemma.”
“The female, too.”
“Yeah? Well, we ever gonna do it, Rebecca? Or just think about it all the time?” Heat sparks in her green eyes, but then she drops her head, self-conscious, wavy blonde hair falling across her face. “’Cause right now, I’m starting to think it’s never going to happen.”
“It will happen.” She stares at her toes, away from me, voice all quiet and unreadable.
“Rebecca, you’re sexy as hell, I can’t help that.” She touches her face, brushing her hand over her scars. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”
She looks up again, green eyes shining. “Michael, I’ve slept with exactly two people in my life. That’s it, okay? It’s not that there’s a problem with you, it’s just—” She shakes her head, walking away from me, toward the sink.
I follow after her. “Just what, Rebecca?”
She spins to face me, clutching a hand over her heart. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here, okay? That’s all.”
“What I’m dealing with? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I have no idea where all this blustery anger’s coming from, but I don’t know how to stop it, either.
“I can’t talk about this right now,” she says, tension visible in her features, her blonde eyebrows lifting defiantly. “I just can’t.”
“You asked me what was wrong.”
“And it’s sex?” she cries, placing a palm over her chest. “That’s what you’re telling me is wrong with you tonight? That it’s because we aren’t having sex yet?”
“Can you keep your voice down?” I nod toward her bedroom irritably. “I don’t want Andrea to hear this.”
“Fine,” she says, placing her back to me again.
I wander toward her fridge and open it, searching for a beer. She’s stocked it with Heineken just for me. Oh, I’m a first-class prick all right.
“So it is about sex,” she asserts, much more quietly.
“That’s an issue, but not the real one.”
“Okay, then tell me.”
I hesitate a moment, pacing the length of her kitchen. “It’s Laurel Richardson,” I say, feeling like I’ve just dropped a heavy pack to the floor. “Al’s sister. His twin sister.”
“Okay,” she encourages, gentle with me, far more gentle than I deserve. “What about her?” I turn back to face her, and she’s patiently waiting, nodding her head in support.
“She’s coming to stay with us. Next week.” I stare past her, out the window over her sink, because I just can’t deal with looking into her kind green eyes. “There’s a whole lot of history there, that’s all. Bad shit, and I’m not sure I can deal with it, but I don’t have much choice.”
“Well, Michael.” She pauses, biting her lip, considering. “The good thing is that at least you don’t have to deal with it all alone. You’ve got me.”
***
We’re back on the sofa again, hers this time. Mine, hers, it doesn’t matter; all I want to know is when we’ll finally get down to it. When I’ll be deep inside her, making love like that for the first time in years—and to her for the first time in my life. Yeah, Queer Boy is undeniably gung-ho about his return to the straight and narrow.
Darkness shrouds her den, with only the gleaming lights from Mona’s house washing over her ceiling. That and the rhythmic reflection of the pool lights playing along Rebecca’s living-room wall like a lava lamp. Andie’s sound asleep in the next room; there’s just us, the sound of us breathing together, the feel of me hard and ready to go.