The Lost Sister (Sister Series, #8) Page 14

  “Us?” Lowering her hands when she heard “us,” she met his gaze before jerking away.

  “Us.” His tone was firm when he repeated it. “So… tell me about that. Was it because of something I did or failed to do?”

  His tone was so mild and easygoing. He wasn’t embarrassed or mad or even perturbed, it seemed. Her eyebrows furrowed on her forehead. And he seemed so interested in knowing her answer. “No, it’s not you,” she finally replied, trying to reassure his male ego. She had no doubt her lack of response had pricked and bruised him or even made him angry. That is what usually happened to the men in her past. She mumbled the words, knowing they wouldn’t help.

  He swirled her chair around so they were facing each other. Surprised he was so close, she frowned at his proximity. “Okay, so it’s not my sexual prowess. Talk to me, Tara. What happened? Or… didn’t happen? Did we rush it? Did I hurt you? Or pressure you?”

  She leaned forward and touched his face because he seemed to care so much. He really wanted her to explain it to him. That was a new dynamic for Tara. “It’s not you, Ryder. No. You were perfect.”

  His smile was lopsided as he replied, “Something about me wasn’t quite perfect though, or I would have had no problem getting the job done.”

  “It—it’s not like that.”

  “So this is an ‘it’ and there’s more to it?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. He took her hand in his and pulled it onto his lap, rubbing his thumb gently over hers. She wasn’t used to such affection or being touched for no reason. Nothing like that ever occurred in her family. Neither her parents nor her siblings ever displayed that kind of random, pointless, but sincere affection. It made her slightly uncomfortable, and yet, there was something uniquely pleasant about it too. New. Exciting. It made her stomach flutter inexplicably. He was so comfortable just talking. Asking her questions. Being straightforward. And touching her. Why not just pretend everything was fine? At least he got off. Why couldn’t that be enough? Tara wondered what the hell this was leading to.

  “Tara?” His tone sounded more solemn. He shook his knee so it slid on hers, grabbing her attention.

  “Yes, it’s a thing,” she sputtered out, sounding almost annoyed. She was already beyond embarrassed to have to explain it.

  “Care to tell me what the thing is?”

  “Not really.” She tried to end the conversation. He already got over her not telling him about her history, so maybe he’d let this go too.

  He sighed. “Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?”

  She pressed her lips together and her eyebrows lowered. “I didn’t realize I even could talk to you about anything. I mean, we were… nothing really, and now what?” Suddenly feeling almost grumpy, she pulled in all her body parts and turned to face her meal. Picking up her fork, she stabbed a bite of eggs and sucked them into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated annoyance. She took a few more bites before swallowing a big gulp of coffee to wash it all down.

  Ryder didn’t comment or reply. She finally risked taking a peek at him by just barely turning her head. “What?” she asked when she saw the smirk on his face.

  “You’ve never been in a relationship before?”

  “No. I told you, I don’t date. No boyfriends. No spouses, ex or otherwise.” She glared at him for full effect.

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I caught that. I meant, relationships like… with another human being?”

  She dropped her fork and it clanked on the plate. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Simple conversation? Being honest? Telling something about oneself? Generally relating to other human beings?”

  “I’ve told you plenty of things.”

  “You’ve mentioned only stilted hints. Which is okay, I have no problem with that as it’s your history and you’re obviously not ready to discuss it with me. But this? It’s right now. This directly affects us. Something happened between us. So what are you going to do now? Ignore ‘it’?” His tone emphasized the word “it.”

  Tara sipped her coffee to pretend she was thinking as she swallowed and held the cup up. “Well, why not?”

  “So if I grabbed you and bent you backwards over the counter and started licking my way down your body, you’re telling me you’d be fine with that? Nothing to say? No worries? It’s all going to work out just fine? You don’t see the need for any further discussion here?”

  Her eyes rounded in shock and her mouth dropped open. She barely remembered to press the napkin to her lips. “Um, you’re not going to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  His tone was so confident. Right there. As loud and sure as ever. As if he were discussing the weather or making a recommendation for dessert. She gulped before she finally glanced his way. He sat staring right at her. She frowned. “Because it would be completely unsanitary. Anyone could walk up and see… and…” She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. I’m not wired like that. I don’t want you to do that. I don’t know how to be easygoing about that. I think it would freak me out.”

  He nodded and smiled. “See?”

  Her eyebrows lowered. “See what?”

  “It’s not that hard to tell me the truth about something you think or feel. You did both there. However, I would like to do that someday, and to teach you the hidden joy in it, but I digress. So back to ‘it.’ Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  She kept her knees pointed forward and her head down. He leaned to the side of her, his arm now on the counter while the other descended to her waist, and he squeezed it. She didn’t need a mirror to know her chest, neck, cheeks, and forehead were flushing in the telltale blush of scorching embarrassment and shame. She couldn’t even bear to say the words out loud. “I don’t come, okay? I’m frigid. I’ve always been that way. Since… since I started to… you know, develop.” She stared down at her hands. “It always used to amuse me. I’m built like this,” she said, waving a hand down the front of her chest, “which most men enjoy looking at it, and yet, nothing. Nada. There’s nothing in it for me. There’s not a thing I feel about it.

  “You didn’t have to do that with me. At all. Why? Why put yourself through it if the results are so unsatisfying?”

  “Because I wanted to. I mean, in my head, that’s all I desire. I like you. I like everything about you. How you look. Especially how you looked last night. How you talk to me, and not at me. I also...” She glanced at him and then looked back down. “I just like how I feel about myself when I’m with you. I mean, not so much in that particular moment, but with my self-esteem in general.”

  “I know what you mean.” His voice suggested slight amusement. It often felt like he totally got her. He understood her. Almost as if he liked what he understood about her. She bit her lip. Honestly, that was, most likely, the crux of her problem.

  “So, what’s it like for you then?”

  She sighed. “I just become completely overwhelmed with my thoughts. Like whether or not I should be submitting… to the sensations… and feelings… all that. Then my brain completely warps into hyper speed and all I can do is think. I think about what I look like, if I should do this or that, or… I don’t know, I just start obsessing about all the details of what’s going on. And I can’t feel the sensations anymore. I can’t stop my brain from talking to me, and nagging me almost. It blocks all the joy from sharing myself with you.” She stopped, almost needing to take a breath. This was so embarrassing. She had never articulated it before. “I’ve been advised to try harder, you know, to… to make it happen. The harder and longer I try, however, the more I feel pressured—”

  “I imagine so. If it makes you nervous and anxious, having to rely on someone else to fix it, who is now trying even harder and having expectations from you… Of course it’s way more pressure.”

  Her eyes sparkled with intrigue as she turned towards him, smiling. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I usually just fake it in order to end it. Telling men about it only makes it wors
e. Faking it is best.”

  His smile was tender and the feelings it evoked inside her felt odd. He acknowledged everything she said. Like it mattered. Nobody did that before.

  “And the noises I heard from you last night? Those were faked.” He wasn’t asking.

  Her entire face burned up in heat. “No, I mean, some of them—”

  “Tara?” he interrupted, leaning towards her, taking her hands off her cheeks from where she clutched them out of embarrassment. Holding her hands in his, he shook them gently as his fingers rubbed over hers. “I had a wife for many years and I learned how to get her off for most of that time. I’m not eighteen and unsure of my ability or prowess, okay? So quit trying to protect my fragile ego. It’s just fine. I’m trying to understand this for you, not me, okay? So answer me honestly. Were those noises faked?”

  Her breath swooped out of her lungs. Never. She’d never had a guy react like that or ask her why. Her smile was tremulous as she bit her lip and nodded, squinting her eyes. “You don’t really want me to be honest.”

  “I want you to be brutally honest. Quit faking. There’s no fixing anything if you’re faking your way through it all. And honestly? I find that offensive. I do not need you faking it with me. Okay? So answer me. For real this time.”

  She took in a breath and almost glared at him. She doubted he’d deal with this very well. “Fine. Here goes. Brutal honesty. Yes. Every bit of it. I hate to make sounds. I don’t see the need to. But that’s all part of it, right? Plus, it makes it go much faster so it’s over sooner.”

  She waited for him to recoil in horror or shock. He nodded, and his face was solemn as if he were internalizing what she said, and evaluating it. “Is there pain for you? Physical? Emotional? I mean, was there an incident that started sex off wrong for you?”

  She sighed, her shoulders wilting. “No. I know what you mean. No rape. No molestation. No haunting memories. When I was still living in the lap of luxury, I had several physicals and all my girly gear seems to be healthy and fine. There is no physical reason for it. Or emotional. I mean, honestly, we could go have sex right now and it wouldn’t particularly bother me. It doesn’t hurt me… it just doesn’t do anything special for me. So… I don’t want you… don’t think this means we can’t have sex. It just means…”

  “It means, I am not having sex with you just so I can get off. It has to be mutual or not at all.”

  She shook her head. “No. See? That puts all the pressure back on me. And I can tell you right now, the ice crystals are growing inside me.”

  He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Graphic. And explicit. Okay, I worded that wrong.” He leaned closer and tucked a hunk of hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw in a gentler hold. “Tara, I really like you. It’s been a long time, years, actually, since I’ve liked anyone.”

  “No one since your wife?”

  “No one. And I want to keep seeing you. A one-night date or one night of sex isn’t my intention.”

  She licked her lips. His gaze was fastened on her, honest and forthright, seeing everything. It made her squirm. It was so odd and unusual for her to feel like that. “So what I meant is, we’ll figure this out, together. You won’t have to tolerate me having sex with you, nor do you need to pretend to perform for me. We don’t need to have sex.”

  “Then… what? What do we do?”

  “We take it slowly. Figure out what you like. Maybe figure out where it goes wrong.”

  She licked her lips and he kept his gaze on hers. “When I was younger, I told you my mother insisted that I dance? Well, every single time I danced, she watched me, and she was never supportive or caring. She definitely wanted the best out of me, but failed to give me any support. She was always critical. Fault-finding and derogatory. Every time I moved, she commented. She sneered at me and scorned me. She made me feel so stupid and inept and that never ended. I never, I swear to you, not once, managed to please her. Not once did she congratulate me, not even when I won, which I did in several competitions. All she said when I carried the trophy over to her was how many imperfections she noticed.”

  She inhaled a deep breath. It had been so many years since she talked about her childhood, much less her mother. So long. Her rusty memories were hard to tap into and articulate. His gaze remained riveted on her. As if he truly cared about what she had to say.

  “And when you did anything, you always heard that voice telling you what you did wrong. You’ve learned to narrate your own imperfections or perceived imperfections.”

  Her head snapped up. Nobody seemed to get this. “Yes. How did you…”

  “Again, I’m not eighteen. I’ve been in a relationship before, remember? I get a few things. I see exactly what you’re saying. It sounds like she eroded your self-confidence. You don’t trust yourself anymore because she spent all your formative and adolescent years criticizing and critiquing you.”

  “It’s so embarrassing to admit. My mom was mean to me and hurt my feelings so much, I don’t know how to relax so I can have an orgasm.”

  He leaned forward and his lips brushed over hers in a quick, soft kiss. Startled, her head jerked back. But her heart sped up at the intimate contact.

  “It’s a lot more complicated than that. You don’t have to trivialize what is obviously a painful memory for you and now a painful subject,” Ryder said.

  “No one has taken me so seriously before.”

  “Whatever happens between us stays between us. Start there. I think we could figure this out, or at least we could try to. That is, if you want to. But only if you’re interested in seeing me more often. I thought you were lately, but you’re pretty hard to read. You keep everything so close to you. You don’t let out anything, from innocent chit-chat to big things. Like telling me you didn’t really like what I was doing to you.”

  She started to speak but he held up a hand. “Not criticizing it. I’m just trying to get to a starting point of honesty with you, Tara. Can you and do you want to do that? With me?”

  More than anything. Her heart leapt quickly and erratically at his question. She did. Oh, she wanted more than anything to get to a starting point of honesty. She wondered if she had ever experienced it before. She remembered the streets. And the drugs she’d done. The sexual things she’d done. He was a cop. If he found out any of that now, before they really even started, he’d probably ask her to leave at once. Politely, of course, because Tara was now convinced she’d met the nicest, kindest, hottest, smartest guy on the planet. Or at least, he was in her experience.

  He wanted to get to know her. All of her. The parts that no one else did. He wanted to gain her trust and no one else did.

  “Tara? I’d like to have a relationship with you.” His voice was full of hope and warmth. So much warmth was being directed at her. As warm as his hand, which he set on her jaw and rubbed towards her ear. He again touched his lips to hers. It was very brief. She wanted this. Him. A relationship. She never had one before. When he asked her that, the answer was no. She hadn’t really. Relationships involved caring, gentleness, support, respect, and trust… that went both ways.

  Maybe if she held off on divulging all of her history, but was as honest as she could be about it, and about everything else from now on forward, maybe she could do that. She would not lie about her history, she’d simply fail to elaborate on it. There was a huge difference in having a sordid history and not discussing it versus lying about it outright.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Are you sure? I mean, how can you be sure?”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. His smile was a small one that rose on one side. “I like how you make me feel when I’m with you too. I like seeing you blush every single time you talk to me. I like how quiet you are. And when you smile, it’s like I’ve earned it. Accomplished something of true value. I like how you look too. I like to look at you. I like to be around you. I like how you interact with Wyatt.”

  “But how can you like how I am to touch?”

  “Wel
l, that’s a new element. It doesn’t mean I want to end what might be developing here. It’s just another part of it. You asked me how I could be sure. My answer is, I’m not, but I’d like to try having a relationship with you. But isn’t that all we could possibly know?”

  Her breath released and she did something that was way out of character for her. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest, kissing his shoulder before resting her face on it. His arms encircled her easily as his big hands rubbed her, soothing and warm on her lower back and rising up to her shoulder blades. He finally leaned back so he could meet her gaze. “Is that a yes? You’d like to see if…”

  “If we have something here? Yes. I’d like to see.”

  “Okay, then. Now where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, we can figure it out as we go. What you like. What you don’t like. When your head starts narrating and when it goes completely negative. How about this? Do you like being hugged?”

  She smiled. No one ever asked her that. But sadder still? Not many ever bothered to hug her. Period. Honest. She had to be honest with him. Taking a breath for courage, she said, “Honestly? I don’t know what I like. I wasn’t touched or handled very much as a child. Actually, even as an adult. My dad never touched me. He rarely came around me and we never made eye contact with each other. When I spoke, it was like he couldn’t even hear me, let alone be bothered to take the energy it required to lift his head up to look at me. Can you imagine? Do you ever feel like you can’t even look at Wyatt?”

  The hand rubbing circles on her back increased in vigor. “No. I can’t imagine. I must look at him a hundred times a day and stroke him affectionately at least as often.”

  “I know,” she said softly, holding his gaze. It was disconcerting how easily he focused all his attention on her. As if what she said was the greatest priority of his life. It was so very odd. “I noticed that about you right off. It’s what first captured my attention.”

  “Besides my gun. That had it in spades.”

  She chuckled, marveling how easily he made her smile and laugh. And more importantly? She could act naturally around Ryder. “Yes, the gun first caught my attention.”