Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
My eyes widen. “What’d you tell her it was for?”
“I said we like to role-play. You know, the whole naughty French maid thing.”
I choke. “You’re kidding.”
“Well, you didn’t want me telling her about the mirror, so I had to improvise.”
“Now she thinks we’re kinky.”
He shrugs, unbothered.
Gasp.
Maybe Aiden is kinky!?
“Have you role-played with girlfriends before?”
“Do you really want to be having this conversation right now?”
He looks at me with a quirked brow, and I remember my current state of undress.
“Right. Carry on.”
He nods then disappears down the hallway. In a second, he’s back with a new, clean towel. He walks carefully over the broken glass, crunching it under his shoes, and then cracks open the shower door. His eyes are averted—thank god—as he passes it down to me, and I waste no time wrapping it around myself.
“What are we going to say about the mirror?” he asks as he gets to work sweeping up the glass. “I don’t have a problem telling her I accidentally broke it.”
“No, I’ll figure something out. I’m too cold to think right now though.”
He frowns and glances up at me. “Here, let me get your shoes so you can come out and get dressed.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to crunch the glass more and make your job harder. I can wait a little while longer.”
He nods and gets back to it, bending down to carefully sweep up the debris.
“I still wouldn’t walk in here barefoot until we can vacuum. I’m probably not getting every last shard.”
Good point.
When he’s done, he empties the dustpan into the trash can under the vanity and ties off the bag so we can dispose of it in the morning.
An hour later, we’re both lying in bed, me in my tank top and pajama shorts, Aiden in his boxers, freshly showered. We smell like the same body wash. We’re so close to touching. If I just barely shifted to the right, we’d align. So, I lie perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. I know Aiden is still awake. We brushed our teeth, tucked ourselves into bed, and turned out the lights. “Night,” I said, and he repeated it back to me. Now here we are, silently trying to pretend the other person doesn’t exist. I should try to go to sleep, but I can’t. I’m too curious about something.
“Psst.”
Aiden’s head turns on his pillow.
“What’s up?”
I turn to face him, but it’s so dark, I can’t see him. Even with the light from the stars streaming through the thin drapery on the windows, I can’t make out where he is on the bed. So, I just talk to the blackness.
“Earlier…when you were cleaning,” I venture quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I asked you about the role-playing thing.”
Chapter Eight
Maddie
He laughs under his breath. “I knew you wouldn’t let that go.”
“So?” I prod.
“So?” he mimics.
“What are you like in bed?”
“I don’t know. Ask yourself—you’re in bed with me right now.”
I turn completely onto my side, toward him, propping my elbow up on my pillow and resting my head on my palm. “No, c’mon. I want to know. I mean, I’ve heard the women, so I know you’re good.”
In the darkness, I can just barely make out him wiping his hands down his face. I don’t think he wants to be talking about this with me and I should just drop it. But…I don’t.
“I’m not sure what you want to know.”
Everything.
“Let’s start with the small stuff,” I say, taking my bottom lip into my mouth. “Do you usually initiate, or do you like when your partner takes the lead?”
“Either way. I think it’s sexy when a woman makes it clear what she wants, but on the flip side…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but it’s obvious where he was headed.
He likes control too.
A shiver runs down my spine.
Why am I doing this to myself? Why make it harder to live alongside Aiden? Why blur the lines? I don’t know. I’ll worry about the answers to those questions in the morning.
“Okay, what about positions?”
“Maddie, go to sleep.”
“I’m curious.”
He sighs. “I haven’t had sex in six months. I can’t even remember what I like.”
I sit up, mouth gaping, eyes wide.
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Six months?!”
“Not since my last breakup.”
“Wow.”
“What does that mean?” he prods.
I shake my head, trying to rein in my shock.
“I’m just…surprised. That’s all.”
“Can we have this conversation in the morning?”
I still can’t discern his facial expression in the dark, so I don’t know if he’s just a little exasperated with me (which is honestly our baseline) or really annoyed.
I plop back down on my pillow, stare up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath, feeling slightly bad for pushing us into such an awkward conversation.
“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t had sex in a year,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed after I eke out the confession.