Page 92 of The Revenge Game
“Um…yeah. I mean, I’m definitely up to try…” I say.
Shit.
My face heats. For someone who makes his living talking to people, I’m suddenly struggling to string two words together. But there’s no PowerPoint presentation forHow to Tell the Guy You’re Falling For That You Want To Have Penetrative Sex with Him.
I think back to what my health teacher in high school used to say.
If you aren’t mature enough to have a conversation about sex, then you’re not mature enough to be having sex.
I take a deep breath through my nose and force myself to address this like an adult.
“I’ve had penetrative sex with women, but I’ve never done anal. So I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“We can take it slow,” Drew says. “Figure out what works for you. There’s no rush.”
I exhale shakily. “Mrs. Otterman would be so proud of me,” I say.
Drew seizes up. “What?”
I huff a sheepish laugh. “Oh, I was just thinking about my high school health teacher. She had this saying about how you shouldn’t be having sex unless you could have conversations about it.”
Shit. Should I have admitted that? Drew looks freaked out by my admission, his earlier playfulness draining away.
Maybe discussing high school health teachers isn’t the best way to set a romantic and sexy mood?
There’s a guardedness in Drew’s expression as he replies to me. “Yeah, my health teacher said something similar.”
But he still looks uneasy. His fingers twist in the sheets beside him.
“So, I guess we need to discuss the logistics,” I say. “So, um…? Who’s going to be the pitcher, and who will be the catcher? God, that sounds like I’m reading from some terrible gay sex manual. Sports metaphors really aren’t the best in the bedroom, are they?”
A small smile blooms on Drew’s face, but it’s only there for a few seconds before it fades.
His teeth catch his bottom lip, and he’s looking at me like he’s trying to make some crucial decision.
“I’ve done both,” he says finally. “And I enjoy both. Do you have a preference for which one you want to try?”
“I like the idea of both. I don’t really have a preference for which I try first,” I say.
“For your first time, it might be easier for you to top.”
“Okay.”
I lean forward to kiss him, trying to pour all my gratitude and tenderness into the gesture. His lips part beneath mine.
Our kiss becomes deeper yet still gentle, like we’re having an entire conversation without words.
When his hand comes up to cradle my jaw, his thumb stroking along my cheek, my heart does this complicated flip that has nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with how safe he makes me feel.
But when I withdraw, there’s still hesitation in Drew’s eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m really happy with what we’ve been doing. We don’t have to try anything different,” I say.
Because Drew is still looking uncertain, and I hate feeling like I’m the reason why. I hate that the blissed-out expression I’ve gotten used to seeing on him has become more guarded.
I want nothing more than to kiss away whatever doubts are clouding those gorgeous brown eyes.
Drew swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
