8. Petra

Chapter eight

Petra

Screw it. I slip my sneakers off to curl up on the sofa. Hugging a stiff pillow to my belly, I consider all the things Reed wants to know. They’re all sex-related, so I’m confident about striking the bargain. He knows the worst parts already.

“Deal,” I agree. The curiosity is eating at me. “Do you sleep with more than women? Was your issue sleeping with a fan of Daddy Knight?”

His gold eyes are piercing as he takes a sip. “That was two.”

I grimace. “One and an extension.”

“My sexual preference is women, but I don’t discriminate against my listeners,” he says, one eyebrow raised high. “There’s enough Daddy Knight to include anyone who wants to listen. I have several collaborations with other male creators on their platforms. And yes, it was.”

“Then why would you sleep with me?”

“Don’t read anything into it. If you’re not up for it, then it’s not happening, and that’s a dead serious promise. Now. My turn.” His eyes glitter in the dim light of the side table. “Why haven’t you had sex in a long time? How long is a long time?”

I should’ve expected that. “That’s two. I was in a long-term relationship and I haven’t dipped my toe back in the water yet.”

“One and an extension,” he says, using my own words against me. “How long?”

I avoid broadcasting how flustered and humiliated I am by the answer. “A couple years.”

Both of Reed’s eyebrows shoot up. “Years, plural? Two? Three? ”

I take a huge gulp, desperate for a buzz to offset my humiliation. “Four.”

“What?” Reed asks in total disbelief. “I changed my mind. You need to have sex with me—not for my sake. For yours.”

I snort and pierce him with a glare. “You’re a real ladies’ man, Reed. Know exactly how to get me going.”

“But you’re hot when you’re annoyed.” He winks, back in Daddy Knight territory. I roll my eyes as he sets our empty glasses to the side and folds my hands in his. They’re large and warm, and the just-waking-up sensation is back. “How do I actually get you going? Which scenes are your favorite? Do you listen to them multiple times? In the car? At work?”

“Do you do that? Don’t answer that. I keep it private, thank you.” I glance back down at my tingling hands in wonder. The only men to touch me lately are my family members. I miss this type of connection, no matter how little I know Reed.

I’ve had too much wine.

His agitated finger drums against my hand. “How have you been single for four years? You’re beautiful, kind, soulful. You smell like cookies, you’re hilarious—”

“I smell like what? ” I pull away with a laugh. “You’ve known me for an hour, Reed. And I’ve only been single for five months.”

Reed goes entirely still. “You were in a relationship before that?”

“Yes.” I’ve definitely had too much wine, because words are spilling out when my brain should be holding them back. “I lived in LA with my boyfriend for a long time. An excruciatingly long time.”

“Without sex for four years?” Reed mumbles. His hand moves up my arm, and each stroke is a salve on a web of invisible cuts that’ve been left open for too long. “I can’t imagine you were okay being in a relationship with no intimacy. Not with your sex drive. What made you stay?”

I open my eyes—I don’t remember shutting them—and muster up some fight. “This is way beyond one question. And you know nothing about my sex drive. ”

“Don’t I? Your listening habits say otherwise. Did he belittle you for wanting it as much as you did? Insecure men do that when they can’t keep up.” His hand smooths down the length of my arm to my hand, and my eyes want to close again. His voice gets quiet. “I can keep up, Petra. If not with my dick, then with my hands and mouth. I’m a hardworking man in all aspects.”

I tilt my head back, laughing, because his words are filthy, but he says it so sweetly. Similar to his Daddy Knight persona, but decidedly different. Oh no, I won’t be able to listen to those without seeing Reed’s face and comparing Knight to the side of Reed I’m experiencing now. I’m going to have to cancel my subscription.

“I don’t doubt it, but you weren’t going to push the issue, remember? What is your fascination with my sex life?”

He takes a quiet moment to play with my fingers and lace ours together.

“I want you to live vibrantly.” He’s watching our hands, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, or himself. “Maybe this is fate trying to remind you of what you could have. To remember that sex can be beautiful and fulfilling, despite the past. Because the last person who touched you should never be the person who hurt you.”

His pain is etched into each line of his face. “Reed—”

He shakes his head, throwing off his somber moment, and smiles up at me. “You’re freshly single, you should be out having the best sex of your life, not shut away like a nun.”

“My dad always wanted me to be a nun,” I note, losing track of what I’d wanted to say. My head is filled with helium, but is also extraordinarily heavy. Way too much wine. I’m trashed. “But I doubt nuns drink or listen to erotica twice a week. Ha! I take that back. I’m sure they indulge in communion wine.”

“Petra?” Reed asks. In my silence, his smile grows and grows, accompanying laughing eyes. “Twice a week?”

“Shit.” I drop my head into my free hand.

“It’s routine?” he asks.

Giggles sweep over me in the same moment as mortification, and I shut my eyes against both. “Go away! ”

“I can’t, now.” Reed’s voice drips in my ear as he bends close. “I want to know everything. Why those days? What do you do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“How do you do it? Which one is your favorite?” His question glides down my spine like a lover’s touch, and all of me pebbles at the sensation. I can’t handle it. If I let this continue I’m going to sleep with him, and that’s terrifying.

I rip my hands away—angry at myself—and meet his intense, questioning gaze. “You know what? If it will take away the mystery, fine. It’s any day I have the house to myself, because I had to move back in with my parents. That, in itself, is humiliating. I don’t use vibrators because my mother is a snoop and a bloodhound, so my bed isn’t an option. And my favorite—”

I choke off my words because speaking my fantasies is a lot like undressing in front of him. But Reed’s eyes are bright as he urges me on. He touches the back of his hand against my hot cheek and lets it fall. “You’re pink. Don’t stop there. What makes you tick, baby?”

The endearment does me in. So many nights he’s moaned it in my ear, but it’s different with him next to me. The difference between a cold speaker and his warm breath on my jaw is night and day. Between that and the wine, I can’t keep anything a secret.

The fight drains out of me. “It’s hormonal. Soft and sweet, rough and demanding, it depends on my cycle.”

His fingers are gentle as he leans in and brushes my hair back. “Soft? A sweet boyfriend? Positive affirmations?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and let my eyes shut to protect me from the eager way he’s looking at me.

“And what type of rough, baby? Blindfolded? Bound?” His voice is enthralling, and I ache for him all over. I should leave. I’m beyond tipsy, and each admission only provides more ammunition for him to play with me.

“Yes.”

He hums, fingers sparking fires as they trail down to my collar. “Darker? Pain? ”

I shake my head. “Only in a fantasy.”

“Degrading?”

My answer is firm and immediate. “No.”

“Daddy kink?”

I snap my eyes open to glare at him, my face red. “Shut up!”

“That’s a yes.” Reed’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, and his whole face transforms.

My heart runs a marathon beneath my ribs, leaving me hot and breathless. “Oh my God! I’m leaving now.”

Reed strokes a path down my arm and twines our fingers together. “That’s a double yes. It’s okay to admit it. It’s not really my thing anymore, but it’s cute that you’re shy about it. You need someone to take care of you, Petra?”

“You’re a real ass,” I complain, but don’t push him away. How can a voice sound so smooth and rough at the same time? His words play against my skin as deftly as his fingers. “I take care of myself.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a shrug. “But I’m lonely, and so are you.”

I frown, defensive. “I’m not lonely—”

“Then why are you holding my hands?” he asks. Hands. Plural. At some point, I reached for his second one and linked our fingers together there, too. I panic, my eyes darting up to his, but there’s nothing arrogant in his face this time.

He looks tired. Like me. It’s a sad reminder of real life. “I should go.”

“We’ve both had a lot to drink,” Reed says. “Let me call you a ride.”

“I—” I fumble for words, and my cheeks cool. There’s a gaping hole in my chest at the idea of crawling into my childhood bed. My parents’ house is familiar, and I’m grateful for the safety most days, but not now. Not while I’m sitting next to a man who pokes, prods, and makes me laugh. Someone who doesn’t treat me like I have the malocchio .

Reed plays with me because I can take it .

“When’s the last time you were held as you slept, Petra?” Reed asks, eyes searching my face. He’s not Daddy Knight right now. This is pure Reed, and it’s evident I’m not the only one who’s hurting.

I bite my lip, considering the offer. “A long time. And for you?”

Reed sucks in a sharp breath. “Seems longer than it is.”

My sober self wouldn’t agree to this in a million years. But she’s not here right now, and the loneliness that eats at my heart makes my decision for me. “I don’t want to have sex.”

Reed nods as he tugs me up from the sofa. “Me either.”

I frown at him. “I’m insulted, but I’m not sure why.”

Reed laughs, and the joy of it has me following right behind. I hadn’t paid attention to how much he drank, but evidently we’re both blitzed, because Reed weaves as we walk. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, turning on the bedroom light and pulling back the sheets. “You have all the right qualities. But what you’re offering right now is sweeter and infinitely more precious. You want to borrow a pair of sweats?”

I hesitate. There’s no reason for me to be shy or scandalized at the sight of the bed—I’m a grown woman—but I’m out of practice. “Could I borrow a shirt, too?”

Reed digs clothes from a suitcase and I bring the bundle into the bathroom with me. His shirt fits tightly across my chest, but I’m too tipsy to worry about it.

“Reed?” I peek out to find him already changed and leaning against the windowsill, watching the rain. It’s strangely domestic, seeing him there. “Can I use the hotel toothbrush?”

“Sure, I brought my own.” He grabs his toothpaste, and my life is upside down as we brush our teeth side by side. I give him privacy when I’m done, ignoring the downturned sheets and searching the closets for spare blankets for the sofa instead. I’m not sure if it’s him, me, or both that I don’t trust.

But Reed doesn’t have any hesitations when he comes back in. He tugs me away from the closet to the bed. “Go ahead, I’ll tuck you in. No sex required.” I open my mouth, but Reed stops my protest with a soft brush of his hand against my cheek. “I want to. Plus, you have a daddy kink. Let me take care of you.”

He laughs at my glare and motions for me to lay down. I’m not graceful, but he sweetly tucks the covers over me. He turns off the light and settles onto his side of the bed.

“Night,” I offer in the silence.

I shouldn’t stay. Laying here awkwardly next to Reed is even more lonely than my childhood bed. I shift uneasily, wishing he’d fall asleep so I can sneak out.

“Petra.” His voice is crushed velvet in the dark. “Can I hold you?”

My heart falters. It’s all my worst fears and deepest wishes rolled into one. When I turn onto my side, Reed’s eyes are leached of color in the dim moonlight, and his face reflects my own. Tired, anxious, hopeful, and terrified.

“Please,” I whisper, and worry it’s too soft for him to hear. The guilt over my earlier objectification of him stabs me. I refuse to use him as a warm body. “Maybe the real question is, can I hold you?”

Something in Reed’s face shatters. Something quiet. Painful. It disappears in a blink, replaced by a soft nod, and I wrap my arms around him. It’s immediately more comfortable, because, though Reed is a stranger, my body reacts like he’s home.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, his hand stroking up and down my back. His gentle attention melts all my bones. He’s warm and tender—things I’d wished Nate would be.

I nod and smooth my palm over the side of his ribs. “I’ve missed this. Just being close to someone. Not that—I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Because, though it’s only for tonight, it’s… comforting isn’t a big enough word. I didn’t think I’d ever lay with someone again.”

His unexpected confession makes my ribs ache. I only saw a glimpse of his pain. How deep does it go?

“Me either,” I admit in the quiet. Reed tucks his face against my neck and breathes in. “Are you taking hits of cookies?”

“Maybe.” He retreats with a chuckle.

Though I’m tired, I don’t want to miss a minute of this. Reed stays awake too, and our light, uncomplicated conversation is a balm on my lonely heart. “Favorite color?” I ask.

“Yellow.”

“No one’s favorite color is yellow.” I giggle in the dark. “Be real.”

“It’s yellow. And green, too. Yours?”

I wrinkle my nose to keep my smile hidden. “Cream.”

“Aren’t you a witty one?” Reed teases. There’s a smile in his voice.

We talk for hours. By the time Reed falls asleep and dawn turns the sky pink, I’m sober. I slip out of his arms and pad quietly to the bathroom to change into my clothes. Impulsively, I grab the notepad on the desk on my way out.

Reed, I appreciate you not pushing it. If you ever want to change careers, you have the natural talent to be a professional cuddler. Thank you for holding me when I needed it most. When I didn’t even know to ask for it.

Enjoy your trip,

Petra

I gather up my purse and grimace at the two empty bottles of wine. I ache to take the bouquet, but it will prompt too many questions. I leave it behind and creep down the stairs to the lobby, praying no one is watching.

God ignores me—because I’m not a nun—and Tina’s working the front desk. I’ve known her since grade school, and she couldn’t keep her mouth shut then or now. She raises her eyebrows at me with a smirk. “Morning, Petra.”

I hide my guilt and straighten up as I head for the doors. “Tina. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” she croons from behind me.

Well, shit.