Page 12 of The List
“I used one in biology classes in grad school,” I confess, pretty sure I’m offering up the lamest post-coital pillow talk he’s ever heard. “Then I had ulnar nerve surgery a few years ago, and the neurologist used one on my arm. I got goosebumps and kind of wondered what it would feel like on other parts.”
“Other parts,” he repeats, looking up from the computer to give me that bemused smile I’m starting to really like. “What other parts, Cassie?”
I order myself not to blush, willing my capillaries to stay calm and keep functioning like normal. I’ve had this guy buried inside me. I should be past the point of feeling embarrassed.
“Clavicle, tits, sternum, hipbones,” I tell him. “In no particular order.”
He laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “I love that you mix slang with the clinical terminology.”
“Science geeks can talk dirty, too.”
“That they can.” Simon clears his throat and looks back at the screen. “The spanking and hair pulling?—”
“And the kitchen gadget. Don’t forget that part.”
He grins. “I couldn’t possibly. So, are you wanting to be spanked or do the spanking?”
“Are you game for either?”
I see him hesitate just a little, and there’s something about seeing a chink in his in-control demeanor that makes me smile.
“I’m open to negotiation.”
“Negotiation.” I smile. “Is this a business proposition, then? A la Fifty Shades of Grey? Please tell me you don’t have a contract in your briefcase.”
“I don’t own a briefcase,” he says. “And there’s definitely no contract.”
“Then why are you volunteering for this? Out of the kindness of your heart?”
He hesitates again, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too much. Then again, we’re talking about having this man enter my body repeatedly. I’m allowed to push a little.
“I like you,” he says at last. “And I like sex. A lot.”
“Clearly. And you’re quite good at it.”
“Thank you. I read a lot of sex manuals when I was a nerdy teenager.”
“That’s either the saddest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell him. “Maybe both.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve had time to hone my skills since then.”
“I noticed.”
He grins and fixes his glasses again. I notice the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though, and I wonder if there’s more to Simon’s story than he’s telling me.
“Wouldn’t you rather be out honing your skills some more instead of volunteering your services to a sheltered young dirt doctor?” I ask.
He shrugs and glances back at the screen. “I work a lot,” he says. “And I have certain obligations that keep me on a tight leash as far as relationships go.”
My arms prickle at that. “You’re not married, are you?”
“God, no!” He answers like I’ve just asked if he enjoys clubbing baby seals, and it occurs to me I might not be the only one in this bed with an aversion to the whole marriage and family shit-show.
“Definitely not married,” he says. “And no intention of ever getting married. Ever,” he repeats, like I might have missed the emphasis.
I give an unladylike snort. “You don’t have to worry about me trying to pin you down and wrestle a ring onto your finger,” I inform him. “I’m pretty committed to not being committed. And have a stupid list of sexual lies to prove it.”
“Touché,” he says, glancing back at the list. “But I’m also willing to wager you’re a little bit…conservative.”
