Page 34 of Unraveling with You

Silence hangs over me - a million times heavier than ten soup pots. I curl into myself, unable to translate my thoughts into words.

It took far more than sexual desire to get me here. I’ve been terrified of expressing myself sexually for so long that I never even considered visiting Club X, even with Gabby’s peer pressure. But the second I saw Remington, a deeper part of me opened up, wanting to be seen by him.

No, not just be seen by him - to see him too.

But how do I explain that in Club X terms?

“I want to please you,” I blurt out. Remington’s body language from the corner of my eye gives no hints as to what he’s thinking, but I know he must see my shoulders curling into themselves.

“Sexually?” He asks.

I don’t want to lie. “Yes, that’s one part of it.”

Remington doesn’t say anything. I peek at him to find him staring. He’s so serious but so neutral that I can’t read him.

So, I continue. “B-but notjustsexually. Like, I like how it feels when you say good things about me, and I want you to be able to feel how nice it is too.”

Oh, he’s too stunning - an extra sharpness to his black hair today with that piercing and decked-out skin, crowning him a badass king on this emerald throne of a couch. I can’t bear looking anywhere near him, so I duck my chin.

“I-I guess what I meant to say is, I want you to feel nice, happy, and fulfilled. And I want to be the one you feel that way around since I– I feel that way around you. And I’d be really happy if that included sex someday too, but even without it, it’s been amazing just getting closer to you. I guess what I really mean is, I like seeing you pleased.”

Remington’s shoulders soften. After a long pause, he turns to me. “Sorry, I’m just gathering my thoughts since I’m feeling oddly shy, myself. Can I play with your hair?”

Loosening my wound shoulders, I break into a smile. “Yes.”

With a delicate trace over my cheek, he tucks my hair behind my ear. His fingers follow a straight line to the back of my head, softly stroking my hair at its roots. My eyelashes flutter, and Remington hums. By the time he reaches the back of my neck to give it a gentle massage, I’m burning inside - enough to flush to my chest.

Remington’s voice is low and soft. “You’re achieving that right now, Lilibeth - treating me back with a warm and fuzzy feeling. I’msopleased by you. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.”

I duck my head.

“Are you uncomfortable with eye contact?”

Remington’s abrupt question sends a jolt through my chest.

“No,” I say. “But also yes.”

“Hmm. Can you tell me more?”

“S-sure. No, I’m not uncomfortable since I like it. But yes, I’m uncomfortable, and that’s also because I like it. I like it a lot.”

“So you feel big feelings when we look at each other?” He asks.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I feel them too. That’s why I felt shy.”

My heart throbs so hard that my stomach won’t stop somersaulting.

But I choose to look at Remington anyway. It feels ten times more intense knowing that he could feel even a fraction of the excitement, anxiety, and delight I’m experiencing.

He tilts his head. “So, just to clarify, when you said you’d like to please me, you meant in other ways than sexually?”

“Yes, in as many as you’d like. S-so I wanted to ask during our formal consent discussion about what types of affection you like. And about anything else that makes you happy. Like why you enjoy working out.”

He hums, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “Why I like working out is complicated. I want to feel physically powerful enough to protect people I care about.”

I hum, just like Remington. “That sounds like you. B-but what about the affection part?”

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