Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 (14 page)

Felix’s smile disappeared completely, his expression hardening. “That’s incredible, in this day and age.”

“I suppose.” A wave of relief swept over her. He understood—he agreed. It wasn’t her. “And because I couldn’t talk about it to anyone, I put up with it for ages. I thought maybe there
was
something wrong with me, that I was perverted or something for wanting to try something different, for liking sex. I mean I’m not talking about swinging from the chandeliers or anything, but he wouldn’t even…” She hesitated.

Felix studied her and then, to her surprise, reached up a hand to warm her cheek. “Wouldn’t what? You can tell me.”

She rested her cheek in his palm for a moment and closed her eyes, enjoying the human contact, the warmth of his hand on her skin. Then she opened her eyes and he dropped his hand. “He didn’t even like kissing. He’d turn his head away.” She could hear her voice growing husky as emotion flooded her, so she stopped and took a big gulp of wine.

“Did he give you orgasms every time you had sex?” he asked.

She flushed warm. Orgasm
s
? What a joke. Again, the height of pleasure had become something to be embarrassed and nervous about, until she’d hardly come at all.

But all she said was, “Occasionally.
Very
occasionally.”

Felix released a long, slow breath, and she wondered what he was thinking.

“Are you wondering why I stayed with him so long?” she asked softly. He said nothing, and she knew she was right. “It’s very difficult to explain. You must have had the same sort of thing in the past with your family law—where women continue to stay in abusive relationships. It’s easy to think they’re weak—that they don’t value themselves, but it’s not like that.”

He shifted in his seat, moving a fraction closer to her. Now his arm where it lay along the back of the seat touched her shoulders, his thigh brushing hers. If anyone looked over, they’d think they were a couple, she thought. His presence comforted her. She felt safe in the circle of his arm, protected somehow. How different would her life have been if it had been Felix and not Michael whom she’d dated all those years ago?

“I’d like to understand,” he said.

She looked down at his chest, concentrating on the weave of his sweater. “You think it’s you,” she said. “That you’re at fault. Deep down, you’re sure it’s not you, but when someone constantly makes you feel that way, it’s hard to fight it. With me, although I watched the odd movie where the woman made the first move and both the guy and girl seemed to enjoy sex, often in this world women are made to feel somehow wrong for liking it. Or, alternatively, many women take the stand that there’s something disgusting about liking sex, and they act superior, as if we should all feel the same. I mean the rise of modern erotic romance novels has somehow brought it more into the open—that many women enjoy sex and want to try other things and that it’s okay to be like that. But there’s no doubt that a good proportion of the female population look down on those who like reading erotic stories, insisting it’s pornography, that it’s demeaning to enjoy role-playing or being tied up or whatever—that it’s somehow encouraging men to abuse their partners. Maybe that’s the case, I don’t know. All I know is, I don’t feel like that, and eventually I knew I had to get out of that relationship.”

It was a long speech, and she finished slightly breathless with the effort of trying to make him understand. “Sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“Rabbiting on.”

He smiled. “You know where that comes from?”

“What?”

“Rabbiting. It’s Cockney. Rabbit and pork—talk.”

“I never knew that!”

He laughed. “Anyway, it’s good. I meant what I said—I want to understand.” He finished off his glass of wine, placed it on the table and considered her thoughtfully. “All relationships are about control to a certain extent, even friendships. The best are those where the control is equal, or where you can explore controlling each other in a safe environment by, as you say, using role-play or whatever. The problems come when one half gets off on controlling the other, and it takes over.”

“I guess.”

“All dating is a game. It’s like being dancers, or ice skaters, circling one another. You look for the signs, hoping you don’t misread them and get it all wrong. We’ve all done it. I had my face slapped at school.”

She giggled. “Really?”

“I was sixteen. I chatted up this pretty girl and I thought she was giving me all the signs, so I tried to kiss her. Turns out I was wrong. It’s not easy.”

“No, it’s not.” She smiled, and then bit her lip. She felt embarrassed about asking, about being so forward, but curiosity—and the several glasses of wine she’d had—prompted her to be brave. “So, what’s your view on women and sex then? What do you like your girls to do in bed? Michael hated me taking the initiative. He disliked role-playing or talking dirty or swearing or anything like that. What do you think about it?”

Felix’s lips curved. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I
love
women taking the initiative. I don’t think anything two people want to do in bed is wrong, providing it’s consensual. I think pornography is in the eye of the beholder, so to speak—what’s sexy for one person is pornographic for another, and I think it’s a matter of luck almost, to find someone who feels the same way you do. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with looking at the naked body, and I think it’s perfectly normal to get turned on watching other people having sex.”

“Oh.” If she could widen her eyes any more, she knew her eyeballs would pop out.

“And I don’t see why that should be any different for women than for men,” he continued. “You’ve probably already worked out my view on that, but I believe in total equality. Are men stronger than women? Yes, and it’s fun to explore that sometimes. Are there other differences in the sexes? Yes, although whether the majority are nature or nurture, it’s sometimes hard to tell. But should women feel differently about sex than men? No, of course not! Why should they? Monogamy only came about when mankind developed farming and ownership of land began to be passed to one’s children—at that point it became important for a man to know the children he was giving his hard-earned land to were his own.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I never thought of it like that.”

He shrugged. “The last few thousand years have done a lot of damage to women and their place in society. That’s one reason I enjoy doing what I do. I hope I can rectify that, even if it’s only to a very tiny extent.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “So you think it’s okay for women to suggest different things in bed, then?”

His warm brown eyes fixed her with a firm gaze. “Honey, let me just say, if you were my girlfriend, you could suggest anything you wanted, try any position you liked, swear as much as you felt necessary, and if you didn’t have at least one—and hopefully two or three—orgasms every time we had sex, I’d be very,
very,
disappointed.”

Chapter Seventeen

Coco couldn’t look away. She felt as if he was looking deep into her very soul, searching out all the feelings of frustration and guilt that hid in a dark corner of her psyche and shining a torch on them, dispelling them.

Did he know she yearned for a man like him? That she hadn’t even realised how much she desired it, but now he’d shown her a glimpse of what it would be like to be with him, she hungered for it so much she nearly climbed on top of him and smothered him in kisses?

His intense look faded, to be replaced slowly by amusement as she continued to stare, speechless. “Are you all right?”

She blinked and smiled wryly, but her heart continued to hammer. “I just…um…are you for real? I didn’t think men like you actually existed.”

He laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m nothing special. Honestly—I’m not setting myself up as some kind of hero here. In the circles I mix in, most of the men I know feel the same. My brothers, my friends, they’re all open-minded individuals who are very relaxed about women and sex.”

“Really?” She couldn’t imagine it.

“Do you read women’s magazines?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you ever seen Faith Hillman’s column? Well, she’s Faith Thorne now, but she still calls herself Hillman in the magazine.”

Coco frowned. “Didn’t she write about the Seven Sexy Sins?”

“That’s the one.”

“She married the guy she was exploring the Sins with, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. Rusty. And you know what they got up to! Well, they’re good friends of mine.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Rusty went to school with my brother, Toby. He’s just got married too, to a girl he met years ago on holiday. She got pregnant and he never knew, then back in February he was in Christchurch during the earthquake and who should be right in front of him when the earthquake struck but Esther and her son, Charlie?”

“Oh my God, that’s amazing.”

“I know. Anyway, long story short, second time around they got together permanently, but he’s the same as me in his views on women. I think the majority of men—in this country anyway—are the same. You’ve just been very…unfortunate.”

If only he knew the rest of the sorry tale.

She lowered her eyes, thinking over what he’d said. Was it true? Were most men open to women being more adventurous in the bedroom? She couldn’t imagine it. What would it be like to have that kind of freedom? To be with someone who didn’t frown if she made a tentative suggestion, but who laughed and said, “Absolutely,” and proceeded to let her do whatever she wanted?

Felix’s hand slid beneath her chin and he lifted it so her eyes met his again. “So, Miss Stark,” he said in a teasing voice, stroking her skin with his thumb before dropping his hand again. “What kind of fantasies have you been indulging in? What would be your heart’s desire, if you could do anything you wished?”

“I’m not Miss Stark,” she whispered. “That’s Veronica. Tonight I’m just Coco.”

His gaze softened. “Okay, Coco. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s difficult to explain how different I feel, out of the office. Like…I’ve escaped, I suppose.”

He leaned his head back on his hand, just inches away from her now, and smiled. “So tell me your fantasies.”

She looked up at him, heart racing at his nearness. Could she sit here and tell him the dreams she had, her secret, darkest desires? Usually, she would have said there was no way she could open up to an almost-stranger, but the wine had thawed her, and all of a sudden she was tired of shutting herself away.

“I suppose I dream most of escaping,” she said.

“Physically, mentally or emotionally?”

“All three.” She laughed. “Physically mostly, I suppose. I haven’t been on holiday for years, since Mum became confined to a wheelchair. She doesn’t like being away from home, and I can understand that. Occasionally I’ve been away for a night, like when I went to Auckland on a secretarial refresher course, but that’s unusual, and it’s so much hassle to organise someone to come in and cover for me.”

“It’s quite a responsibility, and you’re still young.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind—I don’t want her to go into a respite home. I know she’d hate it—she’s very reclusive and hates being around strangers. It increases her stress levels, which makes her illness worse. But she keeps telling me she wants to go because she thinks I need to have a life of my own. It’s causing a huge amount of friction between us at the moment.” She bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about that because she knew she’d get upset.

“So someone looks after her during the day?”

“Yes, I pay for nurses to come in.”

“And who’s looking after her tonight?”

“Her best friend, Frances. She’s very good—she occasionally fills in if ever I’m away, which isn’t very often. And her daughter’s about to have a baby so she won’t be around for much longer as she’ll want to help out there.”

He nodded and, to her surprise, reached out and picked up her hand. He turned it over and rubbed his thumb across her palm, a strangely intimate gesture that made her catch her breath and feel as if in that one small movement they’d crossed the threshold from friends to something more.

“So tell me where you dream about escaping,” he said, continuing to stroke her hand, running his thumb lightly down her fingers, circling the base of her thumb, making her tingle all over.

She sighed, feeling in seventh heaven. “Somewhere hot and exotic. Bermuda, maybe, or Hawaii. I’d love to go to Hawaii.”

“And what would you do in Hawaii?” His thumb brushed across the inside of her wrist. She hadn’t known that area was so sensitive. Her nipples tightened and she inhaled. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then returned to hers, growing warmer.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know. Make love on the beach, I suppose. In the waves. Although I’d worry about getting sand where I shouldn’t. Or being sunburned somewhere that doesn’t usually see the light of day.”

He chuckled. “Things like that don’t happen in a fantasy.”

“I suppose.” She smiled. “I just think it would be wonderful, finding a secluded area, lying in the sun and being kissed first by the sun, then by a man, all over…” She sighed.