“Yeah, and how has that worked out for you, Sasha?”
His smug look made me want to wipe it off. “I’m not into long-lasting relationships, therefore it's worked out just fine,” I retorted.
He gave a low chuckle and moved, boxing me in against the countertop. With his forearms on either side of me, he leaned in. His voice was low and gravelly as he murmured against my ear, “I was talking about the sex, honey. How was the sex?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss my sexual history, let alone admit it lacking. Meanwhile, his nearness was wreaking havoc on my senses.
He pulled back and danced his fingers down my arm. “Actually, I could tell you how it’s been for you.”
I shivered at his nearness and sexy voice. “Do tell,” I challenged on a whisper.
He smirked, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. “It was fine. And the word fine is a throwaway word. It’s what you respond with to the doorman when he asks how your evening was: “Fine, thanks.” It’s what you say to the client when they ask how your flight was: “fine.” But it shouldn’t be the way you describe your sex life. Hell, maybe the first time was okay and promising. The second time, maybe a little bit better, but by the fifth time, you realized that’s it. That was the main act with the encore. But it was fine, so you stick it out for a while. After all, it’s nice to have a reason to wear something new and lacy with someone to notice. Nice to get dinner with someone. But then you find yourself bored and staying late at work even when you don’t have to because, frankly, the alternative isn’t as appealing, and that’s not so fine.”
“Okay, enough.” I moved one of his arms and stepped out of reach to lean against the opposite counter. He’d touched a nerve, hitting too close to home on my sex life or at least the one that I could remember.