Page 88 of Nash
"I want to know what you're like. At Vesper." I take a sip and watch him over the rim. "The version of you that has a membership at a place like that. The version that knows things I don't know yet."
He leans against the opposite counter and crosses his arms. The sweatpants sit low on his hips. The V of muscle disappears below the waistband. I force my eyes back to his face.
"You're staring at my hips," he says.
"They're in my sightline."
His mouth twitches. "Ask your question, Ruby."
"Have you ever used a vibrator on someone?"
The kitchen goes very quiet. Nash holds my gaze. His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind his eyes, a heat that wasn't there a second ago.
"Yes," he says.
"During sex?"
"During. Before. As a reward. As a punishment."
"How is a vibrator a punishment?"
He sets his mug on the counter. Uncrosses his arms. Takes one step toward me.
"When someone's been told not to come," he says, his voice dropping into the register that makes my thighs press together, "and the vibrator stays on anyway."
My coffee mug is suddenly very interesting. I stare into it. My face is on fire.
"Oh," I say.
"You asked."
"I did ask. I'm regretting the ask. The ask was a mistake. I wasn't prepared for the answer to be that specific and that hot. I need a moment."
He takes another step. Two feet between us. "You don't need a moment. You need to finish your coffee."
"Why?"
"Because when you're done, I'm going to show you."
I drink the coffee in four swallows. It burns my tongue. I don't care.
Nash takes the empty mug from my hands and sets it on the counter. His fingers close around my wrist, loose, warm, his thumb resting on my pulse point.
"Rules," he says.
"Rules?"
"You wanted to know how this works. It starts with rules." He walks me backward toward the bedroom, his hand on my wrist, his pace unhurried. "First. I set the pace. You don't get to speed things up."
"What if I want to speed things up?"
"Then you use your words, and I decide."
"That's very autocratic."
"That's the point." We reach the bedroom door. He turns me, presses my back against the frame, his body close, his hand moving from my wrist to my jaw. "Second. If something doesn't feel right, you say stop and everything stops. Immediately."
"Okay."
