There was something about James, something confident and carefree, that acted as an assault on her inhibitions. She needed to be on guard. James was a journalist doing a story. Thinking of him as just an incredibly hot man to make bad choices with, had landed her in this mess in the first place. She needed to set down her boundaries. There were certain things she would not talk about. Not even for Ben.
“No, she is the opposite of that. But she is off the table. Anything that happened before I met Ben is off limits. Lucky for you we met when I was eighteen, so you have my entire adult life to comb through.” She cringed at the thought. Luckily she had made most of her mistakes before she reached adulthood, but there were still a few waiting to be uncovered.
“The viewers will want to know about your family life and upbringing. People need to know how you made the leap to beard for one of the most powerful men in politics. I’m guessing it wasn’t a childhood aspiration.”
“People don’t need to know anything about me. They want to know because it’s titillating.”
James shook his head. “For people to understand why you married a gay man, they need to know your motivation. It can’t be all about the money. You’re a brilliant woman. You could earn your own money.”
The small praise sent a hot warmth through her body. Ben rarely complimented her. She knew he admired her, because he said nothing. His policy was to criticise what was wrong; if people were doing things right, they did not need to be told, his silence was their approval. The system had worked well for them for over a decade. But it was nice to be told that someone knew she was smart. “I married Ben because he is my best friend. He has been there for me like no one else. If I’m perfectly honest, the money did help. When we met, I had nothing, not even a high school diploma. Ben saw potential in me I didn’t know I had. With his help, I got into community college and then I transferred to Columbia. Without him I would never have gotten into Harvard Law, or work for the district attorney. I owe him everything.” She could not even begin to encapsulate her gratitude. She was alive today because of Ben. That is why she would stop at nothing to protect him.
“His connections got you into Harvard but I reckon graduating first in your class was down to you. You’re smart and determined and you work bloody hard. Why are you selling yourself short? You would have succeeded no matter what. Why are you giving him the credit? You’re not nearly the feminist I thought you were.”
Her back stiffened at the observation. There were few things she hated more than having her independence questioned. She hated the idea that anyone could think she was not empowered. She did not need Ben because he was a man. She needed Ben the same way he needed her. “Ben and I helped each other. That doesn’t make me any less of a feminist. People need people to get by. Pair bonds are the corner stone of the human experience, it starts in infancy. All babies are born completely dependent on one person for their entire existence. As we get older the dyad changes, but it’s always just two people supporting each other. Ben is my person.”
“But you don’t have sex?” James asked pointedly.
“No.” Of course it would come back to sex for James. Everything about him radiated sexuality and raw masculine appeal. She could not see him going five years without sex.
“Ever?” James put down his notebook and stared directly at her. His notes were more like scribbles. She wondered again what his writing was like with his left hand.
She opened her mouth to speak before she realised he was watching her for her tell. She was going to ask Ben what it was as soon as she got home. She decided to avoid the question rather than lie. “How is that relevant?”
A smile played on his full lips. He was trying to make her feel uncomfortable. And he was enjoying it, almost like he was flirting with her again. “You have been married to the man for five years. People need to understand the exact nature of your relationship.”
“Again, they don’t need to know anything,” Megan countered. She was too intelligent to make the mistake of being taken in by his charm twice, even if it was the best sex she had ever had. She took a breath to clear her thoughts. Indulging in fantasies had landed her on her back.
James pinned her to the bench with his stare. “Do you want to do this story or not?” His voice was low. The implication was clear. If he was going to hold the story, she needed to be more compliant. James had all the power. She needed to remember that.
Megan took another deep breath. Of course she did not want to do this story. She would rather subject herself to 1000 paper cuts doused in acid. “We have never successfully had sex.” Megan forced herself to return his stare as she tried to pretend the answer was not mortifying.
James smirked, his mouth rising only on one side. “Does that mean you tried and failed? That…had to have been…unfulfilling.”
Megan nodded. She distracted herself by taking a long sip of ice tea. “And awkward,” she admitted. She had never spoken about the incident with anyone and it was strangely liberating. Her entire adult life had been secrets and cover-ups. She would not have picked James to confide in but as her mama always said, beggars can’t be choosers.
“Why did you do it?”
Megan’s eyes narrowed. What did he mean, why did she do it? Why does anyone have sex? For the vast majority of people it came down to hormones and alcohol and she was no different. She was hardly going to go on the record with that though. “Same reason all people have sex. The important part of the story is that it didn’t work and that is when he came out to me…well, as out as he will ever be. He liked to pretend he was straight and had never met the right woman. So the answer to your question is no, we have never had sex.” She was not going to relive the worst Valentine’s Day in human history any further.
“But you tried, so you must have had some level of physical intimacy?”
Megan let out a long stream of air. She was not used to being asked questions. She was the one who cross examined. A newfound empathy descended on her as she realised how invasive an interview could be. “People have sex. They don’t need a reason for it. Why did you have sex with me?” She turned the question on him.
Without missing a beat James said, “I had an erection and it seemed a waste not to use it. Now back to you. When was the last time you had sex? Present company excluded.”
Megan itched to slap the smirk off his face. He was far too good looking for his own good. Even with the jagged stitches marring his eyebrow. His words should have made her feel dirty and used but they sent a surge of sexual energy through her, because she knew she had used him just as much and enjoyed every stroke, every lick and every kiss. James’ other skill, besides getting her to admit things she had not intended to admit, was bringing out wanton desires she thought had abandoned her. Sitting beside him, she felt every inch the woman. Far from being offended by his coarseness, she was turned on. In a simpler world, she would let him use her again. She would let him use her until she was panting and begging for mercy and then she would use him right back.
Megan turned and stared down the length of the reflection pond to the Lincoln Memorial. She closed her eyes. The sun felt good on her face, the warmth kissing her cheeks. She felt invisible in the crowd of people. The tourists did not blink at the sight of her on the bench. She was just another body in a sea of people. Her mind wandered to a place where she really was just another anonymous person. She would love to be nobody again. But that was not going to happen.
She opened her eyes and sighed. She reminded herself that fantasising had got her into this mess to begin with. Her only priority was sorting out the fallout from her last bad decision. She didn’t have time to deal with another mistake. “You don’t need that for the story.”
“I am asking as the man who shagged you, not a journalist.”
Her head snapped round to face him. “You can’t ask me questions as a man. I will only answer questions from James Emerson the journalist. Going forward, the man I had a one-night stand with doesn’t exi
st. The answer to the question is that I have not had sex since I got married. And before you ask the reason I had not had sex in so long was because I have been busy and I have a very good vibrator. Off the record, it is mostly the latter, because people can always make time for sex when they want it.”
“So you wanted it last week. What changed? Why did you end your five-year dry spell with me?”
Megan sat and stared at him. Did the man not have a mirror? “Right time, right place. Consider it the female equivalent of not wanting to waste an erection.” She did not hide her face from him because there was no deception there for him to see. She had sex with him because she wanted to. She had not wanted it for a long time, but with James her body responded despite her head reeling against the idea. As an individual, he embodied so many things she detested, but as a man she did not see beyond the sexual being that could bring her pleasure. That realisation startled her. She didn’t expect that from herself, not that she thought she was above it, just that she did not know her body could be responsive with someone she did not care about. Hell, she didn’t like him, but when they were in bed that didn’t seem to matter. The apathy heightened the sensation. There was no emotion involved, just physical. And it felt good.
“Did you make a conscious decision not to have sex? Was that your idea or Ben’s?” James picked up his notebook again and started scribbling. There was no way he would be able to read his notes later.
“There was no choice conscious or otherwise. I just didn’t. Ben actually encouraged me to have sex. He says I am nicer after a good meal and a good fuck. Don’t put any of my swearing in your story.”
James’ dark brow rose in question. “That was you nicer? You didn’t even let me pull out of you before you flipped. I’m not going to lie, that is the oddest reaction to sex I have ever experienced. I did briefly worry that I had misread the signs. But then I remembered I was dealing with Megan McCoy. I would have known all about it if I had gotten it wrong.”
She nodded her head. Her cheeks warmed from something other than the sun. His voice was deep and rich. Discussing sex with him was its own foreplay. She was fairly certain she could come just by listening to him speak. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. “No, you didn’t misread the signs. I was very much up for it. And you are right, you would have known if I didn’t consent.”
“Then why did you freak out after?”
Megan bristled at the memory. “That was a normal reaction, all things considered. Lots of people get depressed after sex because serotonin levels drop off suddenly after orgasm. Don’t read anything into it.”
His eyes smiled “So you always do that after sex? Please tell me you do. Have I encountered my first female wombat?”
Megan scrunched her face up in question. “What are you talking about?”
James grinned, a wicked smile that spoke volumes about what he was thinking. “Yanks need so much explained. A wombat is a very simple creature; it eats, roots, and leaves. I suppose the analogy works better when you know roots is an Australian expression for sex. We are a poetic lot.” James winked down at her, the corner of his mouth rising in a half smile. “Your reaction was very wombat. It’s a pleasure to meet one of the female variety, after all these years thinking they are mythical.”
Megan stopped to consider his explanation. Was she a wombat? She liked emotional intimacy as much as any woman, just not with her sex. Sex was physical, there really wasn’t room for emotion in it. What did that say about her?
Nothing great, that was for sure.
She bit her lip as she considered James’ angle. He was trying to establish reasons why a straight woman would agree to marry a gay man. His assumption was she had to be flawed; little did he know. She was more flawed than he could imagine but she was not going to let him paint her in that light. He would never understand the complexities of her relationship with Ben because she was never going to try to explain it. He didn’t deserve to know. “No, I am not a wombat. I was upset because I was worried about protecting Ben.”
She turned again to look at the sun reflecting in the shallow length of water.
“So next time we have sex, you won’t freak out as soon as you come?”
Megan’s head whipped round to face him. She expected to see a grin or some evidence that he was joking. But his face was expressionless, except for the heat in his dark green eyes. He looked the way he had before he kissed her, before he fucked her. A sudden moistness brushed her panties. Her body was ready for him. If she was honest she would admit her body was always on the brink of arousal when he was near. All it took to push her over the edge was a few words or a look, any indication that his body was reacting to the same pull. Her hands instinctively went to the worn wooden planks of the park bench; a tactile reminder of where they were and why she could not close her eyes and let his lips merge with hers.
Megan cleared her throat and summoned her ice queen persona. The transition was difficult when she could feel her heart beat throbbing everywhere she wanted his hands, and his mouth, especially his mouth. His mouth was designed for pleasure, giving and taking. “Why would you assume I would want to have sex with you ever again?”
He leaned in and whispered, “You enjoyed being fucked as much as I enjoyed fucking you. There is no reason not to do it again.” His lips brushed against her ear with each syllable. She took in a sharp intake of air. She closed her eyes and imagined his mouth lower, his head between her thighs as she came hard and fast against those lips.
James straightened. “Just two wombats doing what wombats do best.”
“I just said I wasn’t a wombat.”
“And I have fucked you and have seen that you are,” he countered. “If nothing else, we have that in common. You haven’t had sex in years because you don’t want to get close to anyone. I get that. I avoid emotional intimacy by having loads of meaningless sex. As one wombat to another, my way is more fun.”
He had admitted something she suspected; the attorney in her pounced on it. “Why are you avoiding emotional intimacy? I have a legitimate reason. Nobody can know Ben is gay, but you don’t have an excuse.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why do I need an excuse?”
“You don’t need one. You just seem rather pathetic without one. And cliché.”
“I’m supposed to be asking you questions.”
She smiled. “I’m asking as the woman you slept with, not the woman you’re interviewing.”
“I’m not as good at compartmentalising as you.”
“Then that would make having sex with me highly unethical.”
“It’s only unethical if I pulled the story. And that’s never going to happen. The story is going to happen, one way or another, so we might as well get some good sex out of it. As far as avoiding emotional complications are concerned, we are perfectly matched. Neither of us wants more and at least one of us is not capable of more.”
Which one of them was he speaking about? She suspected he was talking about himself. Sadly, the point also applied to her. Ben was the only healthy relationship she had ever had. She had stopped trying to get anything from men past sex, long before she and Ben said “I do”. She had entered adulthood armed with the knowledge that men were more trouble than they were worth. She wished she had learned that lesson purely by watching her mom, but no, Megan had to make the same mistakes. At least Megan had stopped making them. She did not look to a man for fulfilment for anything beyond sex.
The idea of having sex with James again was beyond tempting. Not liking him had not made the experience any less pleasurable. If it was half as satisfying as the first time, she would be stupid to say no, she had had enough bad sex to appreciate the good stuff when it happened. But she would be even more stupid to say yes. “Someone would find out. I can’t take any more time in sex rehab. That place was soul destroying.”
“Really? It was flashier than the Ritz Carlton. I might check in there sometime. I can handle my soul being destroyed a little for that
quality.”
She smiled. “You don’t have enough left of your soul to be so cavalier. Besides you would hate it. Hours on end talking about your childhood and your feelings. Torture.” She shivered as she remembered the experience.
“You said your childhood was off limits.”
“Oh trust me it is.” She rolled her eyes as she continued. “They got some quality fiction. I sleep around because my parents’ relationship was a disaster. I had a very privileged upbringing but mum was a doormat and dad slept around, yadda yadda yadda. Now I have no respect for either of them and I have the inability to be part of a nurturing couple so I reject true intimacy.”
James’ dark brows knitted together. “You just described my life.”
Megan laughed. “Seriously? You’re such a cliché. I was hoping you had some deep-rooted issues that made you a man whore.”
“Like yours?” James asked.
Megan shook her head. “Nice try, man-whore. I am not going to tell you anything about my childhood. I know you have this gorgeous make-me-forget-you-are-the-devil thing going for you, but it won’t work with me.”
“It worked well enough to get you into bed,” he countered.
Megan made a tut sound. “You say that like it was a challenge to get me into bed. Many men have accomplished that. No one has ever got me to relive my past.”
“Challenge accepted. I will get into your pants and your head.”
“Trust me, you don’t want in my head. It’s a scary place.”
James picked up his pen and scribbled something down on a fresh piece of paper.
“Don’t write that down!”
“I’m not. That is hardly new information. I would be shocked if you told me your mind was a magical place inhabited by unicorns and rainbows.”
Dirty Little Secrets Page 9
