Page 62 of Please Open Me
...Could I ask him to do it again?
Wait.
No.
Focus. I was supposed to be talking to him.
I needed information. Intel. Answers.
I needed to learn about his ex so I could go back to Portland and cut the dude’s willy off.
Huffing out a breath, I shoved the thought down and tried to channel whatever part of me wasn’t completely feral.
“If I try it,” I said, adjusting my stance, “Can you make sure I’m doing it right?”
He froze for a second, seemingly caught off guard by my question before shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I… I suppose so.” He stepped back and gestured to the machine. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I smiled as I pushed past him, making sure my arm brushed his. It was supposed to be romantic, but Sebastian just blushed and looked away.
Gah—why did someone so hot have to be so awkward?
“You can touch me, you know,” I sang, wiggling my shoulders. “Might help me get into position.”
Seb’s jaw tightened. My eyes dropped to his shorts.
Nothing. Not even a chub.
Tragic.
He reached out and placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me slightly. His touch was clinical, like a doctor grabbing a dude’s dick and telling them to cough. All business, zero fun.
“You smell good,” I tried, reaching for conversation. “Are you wearing cologne?”
“Just sweat,” he murmured. “Bend your knees.”
My disappointment was probably visible from space.
I bent them.
Not enough. Intentionally.
“Lower,” he ordered.
So I went too low.
Like squat challenge from hell low.
Sebastian sighed, a deep, long-suffering, sound, like I was the problem here. Which, to be fair, I absolutely was.
“You can touch my butt if it helps get me into a better position,” I suggested.
“I prefer not touching people without their permission.”
“But I gave you permission,” I whined as I stood.
“Well, yes. But, you are a woman, and I am a man. If I touch you—” he gestured vaguely at my butt, “—my mind is going to go to impure places. And I may want more. Which isn’t fair to you, when you’re only seeking help.”
