Satisfaction Guaranteed(30)

Spy Log Detail Six: She wants to screw so she can get the O she missed. Grab a condom and finish the job, dick.

Spy Log Detail Seven: Idiot. You still don’t know why she faked it. Cool your jets.

I resume my routine, untangling myself from her hands and flipping her to her back. “You want to spend the night here? Get this out of our system so we can go back to work on Monday like nothing happened?”

A frown crosses her face, but then she nods dutifully.

I tilt my head. “You don’t like that idea?”

Her eyes turn sad. “I know it’s what we need to do, but I like being with you, Malone.”

My heart thumps hard. It hammers. She sounds so real. So vulnerable.

I drop my mask and run my fingers across her cheek. “Yeah, me too. Which makes me curious . . .”

She knits her brow. “About what?”

I dot a kiss to her lips. No animosity. No accusation. Just an inquiry. “Why you faked it.”

Her jaw drops.





23





Sloane Elizabeth’s Mental Voice Memo to Self

Busted.

Think fast.

Lightning fast.

What to do?

Do you improvise? Deny? Cover it up?

You could fashion a fabulous story. Say, “What, are you crazy? Of course I came, and it was awesome.”

Because it was. That was the best sex ever. The best almost-O ever. The best everything ever. That’s no lie. Everything about tonight was worthy.

But there’s this thing that hangs over you. That haunts you.

The Thing.

And The Thing has bedeviled you since forever.

Time to own up?

Girl, it’s been since the twelfth of never that you’ve had an orgasm through sex. Might as well confess.

The jig is up.





24





It’s like watching a time-lapse video of someone’s day.

Her expression shifts through fifty variations.

The telltale oops to What, are you crazy? to something I’ll bet goes like this—Better just get this off my chest.

Because it seems that’s where she’s headed when she sighs heavily.

“Because I can’t come through intercourse,” she blurts out. “I’m sorry.”

Whoa. I was not expecting sledgehammer bluntness. “You can’t? You never have?” I’m flooded with curiosity. The morbid kind. Because that sounds like a living hell. This woman. The suffering. My God.

She shakes her head. “Never.”

I sputter, “Not once?”

“That would be the definition of ‘never.’ Never, as in not once.”

My eyes bug out. I can’t believe this tale of woe. “You’ve literally never had an orgasm through sex?”

She frowns as she nods. “Literally. It’s not like I’m happy about it.”

“But . . .” I’m stumped, flummoxed, shocked.

She laughs softly, a self-deprecating sound. “And look, this is most definitely a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” She runs her hand down my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too, that you’ve never experienced the greatest thing ever. I should send you a bouquet. Some chocolates. Get VIP tickets to a concert to make up for the horror you’re enduring.”

She shakes her head and squeezes my biceps. “No, Malone. I’m sorry I faked it with you. That’s what I’m apologizing for. That wasn’t cool.”

I scoff. There are much bigger things that concern me. Like orgasms. Or the lack thereof. “No. What’s not cool is you not coming. That’s what’s not cool.”

She offers a conciliatory smile. “Well, yeah. But I should have been honest with you. Seriously. And I’m truly sorry I did it.”

My brow knits, curiosity gnawing at me. If she’s never tripped into O Town through sex, why did she feel the need to go full Meg Ryan with me? “Why did you fake it, then?”

She sighs like a sad trombone. “Because I like you.”

Ohhhhhh.

“Yeah?” This makes me ridiculously happy, but also perplexed. “But I still don’t understand why you went for the Oscar.” I run my fingers over the ends of her hair. “By the way, you suck at faking an orgasm.”

“No one else has noticed.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not like those other guys.”

Except I am. I have a lot in common with them evidently. And I don’t want a jacket to this club.

“I know. You’re not. The sex was fantastic. That’s why I faked it.”

I hold up a hand. “How could the sex be fantastic? You didn’t come. Ergo, it couldn’t have been great. News flash: coming helps make it great.”

“For the record, sex can be amazing for a woman even without an orgasm.”

I flub my lips. “That’s not possible. That’s like when the losing team in the Super Bowl says it was an honor just to be there.”

She shakes her head, sitting up straighter. “So sex is just a game? It’s about winning or losing?”

“No, it’s not. I’m not saying that whatsoever. But seriously, Sloane. All things being equal, would you rather have the big O or no O?”