SEXT ME - A Steamy SEAL Romance

by Layla Valentine

  And what was one more lie at this point, especially to people I didn’t care all that much about, compared to all of the lies I’d told Jessica?

  I got some positive responses on my applications, but by the time a week had gone by, I had to admit that I was moping.

  So, I broke down and I called Jane.

  Jessica had given me Jane’s number as a joke, back when she had bet me about getting Lanie to finally realize Jane’s feelings for her. “That way,” Jessica had said, “You can call Jane and get to know her better beforehand so you can really know what you’re talking about when you talk with Lanie.”

  It had been a joke, and I don’t think Jessica had seriously expected me to play matchmaker and call Jane, but here I was, with the one phone number that could help me get Jessica back.

  I could have called Mary, of course, but first of all, she was on her honeymoon, and second of all, I had no idea where things stood with her and Jessica. I didn’t want to accidentally kick a hornet’s nest. Again.

  The phone rang a few times before Jane picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Jane? This is Asher. I’m a…friend…of Jessica’s.”

  There was a very, very long pause. Then,

  “I know who you are.”

  “You, uh, heard about me, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  That one word said it all.

  “Listen, I know that I fucked up. Big time. But I need to find some way to make it up to Jessica and I don’t know what to do. Please, can you help me?”

  There was another long pause. Finally,

  “Do you love her?”

  “What?”

  “Personally, I think that you should apologize to her no matter what, but if you’re not in love with her, then I would just recommend a card. Mail it. But if you are in love with her—”

  “I am.”

  I didn’t realize it until the words were out of my mouth, but it was true. Why else would I want to charm her parents, to hold her close while dancing? Why else would I go to a wedding where I knew the bride might sell me out, even if I hadn’t anticipated the fiasco that had unfolded? Why else would I keep staying with her, and sleeping with her, even when it had become clear that I had failed and that I couldn’t give her the pleasure that she deserved, that I knew she wanted even if she wouldn’t admit it?

  I loved her. I was in love with Jessica.

  There was a chuckle from Jane.

  “Well, you’re lucky it’s me and that I know a thing or two about being in love with someone who’s angry with you.”

  “Jessica told me about Lanie,” I said, before I could stop myself.

  “Fantastic,” Jane muttered. “Let’s have the entire world witness my humiliation, shall we?” In a louder voice, she added, “Okay, so, if you want to win her back, you have to prove that you are listening to what she’s saying and being honest with her. You have to prove that you’re in this for her, not for the money or for the notch on the bedpost or for anything else. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” I said immediately.

  “And you have to promise her that you’ll never lie to her or do anything like that again.”

  “Done and done,” I promised.

  “Good. So, find a way to prove all of that to her. Have fun.”

  Before I could ask how on earth I was supposed to prove all of that, Jane had hung up on me.

  Chapter 13

  Jessica

  When Asher showed up at my door, I almost slammed it in his face. I couldn’t, since he stuck his foot in the way and that prevented me, but I gave it a good try.

  “Just come with me, please?” he asked. “I know that I acted like a total sleaze and a liar and I want to find a way to make it up to you, so, if you could just give me an hour?”

  I really didn’t want to. I already wanted to cry just from seeing him again, and I’d done enough crying—and ice cream eating—over the last week. But he looked about as bad as I felt, with circles under his eyes and his hair all disheveled, and well, I was in love with him.

  So I said yes.

  The drive in his car was silent. I thought that he might try to apologize some more once we got in, but he just drove quietly. After about twenty minutes, he parked the car on a residential street and we climbed out.

  “This is where I live”, he said, taking me to one of the apartment buildings. “I haven’t ever taken any of my clients here, but I wanted to show it to you. So that you could get to know me. The real me.”

  I didn’t say anything to that. I didn’t know what to say.

  Asher led me up the elevator and into his apartment. It was a bit larger than mine, and had a much bigger kitchen, the kind of kitchen that you have when you like to cook and do it frequently.

  On the kitchen table was a computer. Asher opened it and turned it so that the screen was facing me.

  “I’ve taken it down,” he said, “But I took some screenshots and saved them, so you can take a look.”

  It was the Dr. O website. I hadn’t even known that he’d had a website. Maybe I should have taken a look—but no, there were no pictures of him or any other identifying information, so it wasn’t like I would have been able to put the puzzle pieces together sooner.

  “I got into the business after I learned from so many female patients that they didn’t understand how to pleasure themselves, or how to ask for pleasure from their partners,” Asher explained.

  “I wanted to help people, and when I joked at a party that I should start charging to give women their first orgasms and teach them how to give orgasms to themselves and demand it from their partners, several female guests offered to write me a check that night. So, I started the website and used this to pay off my student loans and my dad’s hospital bills, after the cancer hit. It was supposed to just be a lark, something to do for a time until I could afford to go back to working in a hospital, but then it just…became my life.”

  He handed me some photos. They were of a small blond boy, smiling, with a man that looked a lot like a heavy-set version of Asher.

  “Me and my dad,” he said. I looked up at him, unsure as to what this meant. “You met my parents,” he explained, “So I’m having you meet mine.”

  I thought I started to see what he was getting at. Next, Asher handed me a photo of a beautiful redhead—his mother, apparently, although he didn’t look much like her. There were a lot more pictures of Asher with his father, and Asher patiently explained to me where each one was taken and what they were doing and what he remembered about that day.

  “He would have liked you,” he said. “He’d have thought that you were too good for the likes of me.”

  That was when I was certain—Asher was apologizing by giving me honesty. He was telling me all about his business as Dr. O, and his childhood with his father, and would probably answer any question that I asked of him right then. He was doing this because I had rightfully accused him of lying to me, and he was making it up to me by telling me the truth.

  It made me want to cry, actually.

  “Asher,” I said quietly. “This is really sweet.”

  “I can give you a tour of the apartment, if you want,” he said. “I haven’t ever brought any clients or anything back here, just to be on the safe side. I always went to their places.”

  “Asher,” I said again.

  He paused, looking at me, and I could see defeat in his eyes, like he was preparing for me to tell him I wanted to leave and to never speak to me again.

  “Jane suggested that I prove to you that I won’t lie to you again and that I was wrong and that I took what you said to heart,” he said, blurting it out in a way that reminded me so much of myself that I had to laugh. Asher paused again. “Sorry, what?”

  “Nothing, I’m sorry,” I said. “You really were ready to tell me your entire family story?”

  “I knew everything about you and you knew nothing about me, nothing that was real,” he said. “Except for my mom and m
y dad, that part was real. I’ve actually been more real, and more myself, with you than I have any other client. You’re the only one who knows my real name. You’re the only one I’ve taken out to dinner. And I could have stopped—I should have stopped—after that first time, and I really shouldn’t have lied to you at all, but I kept coming back because I couldn’t help myself.

  “At first, I admit it was professional pride, and I felt that you deserved to experience pleasure, and that you could experience it, and I wanted to give that to you so that you wouldn’t feel like there was something wrong or inadequate about you. Because there isn’t. You’re amazing, Jessica, you really are.

  “I meant everything that I said to your parents. You’re the hardest worker I’ve ever seen, and you take care of your friends, and you value honesty above all else. You decided that you couldn’t orgasm so you thought about how that would affect your partners, and made it all about them and making them feel special, which just might be the most selfless response to the situation that I’ve ever seen.

  “And you’re gorgeous, and I thought you were beautiful when Mary sent me a photo of you, which was why I agreed to do it. Because the second I saw you, I thought, there’s no way that someone this beautiful hasn’t had men treating her right. And when you told me about the boyfriend that broke up with you because of it, because he let his ego get in the way and decided that you weren’t worth the effort, that just—that pissed me off like nothing else.

  “I’m not expecting you to take me back, but I just want to make it up to you and prove to you that I’m sorry about what happened, especially the way that it happened. I know that you hate to be the center of attention and I made you into that, and you must hate me for it—and you have every right to. But I hope that you forgave Mary, because she was just trying to look out for you, even if she went about it the wrong way. But anyway. I…

  “I love you. And I didn’t realize it until you were gone, but of course I’m in love with you. Because that’s why I did everything that I was doing—because I love you. I’m in love with you. And I just hope that you can forgive me and know that you are worth so much more than you think that you are, and that you deserve someone who’s going to see you as the whole person that you are and not as broken or incomplete, because you’re not. You’re really not.”

  I stared at him, and this time, I knew that my jaw was open and I didn’t even try to stop it.

  “You’re in love with me?”

  Asher nodded. “I know it’s too little too late, but I just wanted to say it, just once.”

  “It’s not too little, and it’s not too late,” I told him.

  It felt like the world was shifting again, but this time, instead of stopping, it was sliding a little, puzzle pieces falling into place around me. Not that a mystery was solved, not in that kind of way, but in a way where everything was turning out the way it was supposed to be and everything and everyone was how they should be.

  “Nobody’s…nobody’s ever told me that they are in love with me before…”

  I could feel the tears welling up and I felt so stupid. Asher had just told me that he was in love with me and my response was to cry?

  Asher laughed, then grabbed me and pulled me into him, the way that he had at the wedding.

  “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Is it okay if I call you that? Are we okay?”

  “We’re getting there,” I told him, my response muffled since my face was buried in his chest.

  “Well, if it’ll help my cause, I did promise you my signature risotto,” Asher pointed out, kissing the top of my head. “I love you, Jessica. And that means that I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

  I thought about it. He had lied, but then, he’d made up for it. He was in love with me, and he’d been a pretty fantastic boyfriend, all things considered. He’d charmed my parents, and given me the best and most considerate sex of my life, and taken me out on fun dates, and golfed with me—even if that part had ended in public sex. He’d been the kind of boyfriend I had always wanted to have.

  I’d pictured having a wedding with him. Surely, that meant something. Surely, that hadn’t been just a flight of fancy. And now, he was holding me, and I just felt so safe, and protected, and whole. Like I wasn’t broken or incomplete or an inconvenience. Like I was enough. Me, Jessica Banks, just how I was already.

  “I’ll have you,” I told him. “Since you plan on making risotto and all that.”

  Asher laughed, kissing the top of my head again.

  “You know what I get to do now?”

  “What?”

  “Touch you as much as I like and not feel guilty about it.”

  I pulled back so that I could smile up at him.

  “I like that idea.”

  Chapter 14

  Jessica

  Asher held true to that whole touching me thing. His hands were occupied while he was making dinner—and that risotto really was delicious—but once we were eating at his kitchen table, he started pressing his leg up against mine in a way he never had before when we’d eaten out together.

  He tucked my hair behind my ear, kissed my cheek when I said something that amused him, and playfully poked me when I was teasing him. I loved it. I’d had no idea that there was this more tactile person lurking underneath the surface, someone who touched not just for sex but for fun and to express love, and I wanted more of it.

  We talked all through dinner, about this and that. I explained how Mary had called me the day after the wedding—or rather, video called me—since she’d wanted to see my face and she and Josh were already in Hawaii for their honeymoon. We’d both cried a lot: me for causing a scene at her wedding, and her for lying to me and breaking my one friendship rule.

  “We both had things to apologize for,” I said, when I’d finished. “But she’s been my best friend my entire life, and nothing’s going to change that. Although, in the moment, I did want to strangle her after I’d finished stabbing you.”

  “Stabbing me? Really? Not even something nice like poison? Ouch.” Asher put his hand over his heart. “I’m truly wounded.”

  I laughed. It felt good to laugh with Asher again. That had always been something that he was good at. Well, that, and getting me turned on. His hand was on my thigh and his thumb was rubbing slow circles on it, something that he probably thought was soothing but was actually driving me slowly crazy with lust.

  So, as soon as we finished our meal, I pounced. Literally.

  I pinned him up against the table before he could start clearing up the plates and utensils.

  “Let’s save that for later,” I said, keeping my voice low and sensual.

  Asher put his hands on my hips automatically.

  “You sure? We did just get back together. After not…being together. Well, not officially being together. But. You know.”

  It made me laugh to see him less than suave for once. Asher was a huge dork underneath it all, even if he would never admit it.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, kissing him until he relaxed against me and I could slide my tongue into his mouth, turning the kiss deep and sensual.

  “Very sure.”

  “Well, if you insist,” Asher replied, his voice turning into a growl as he slid his hands underneath my thighs and lifted me up.

  This time, I was expecting it, so I giggled instead of shrieking and wrapped my legs around him tight, rocking my hips into him. My body was starting to tingle in anticipation, knowing what was coming next—and knowing that he didn’t care if I came or not, just so long as we enjoyed ourselves together.

  We stumbled down the hallway like love-drunk idiots, laughing into each other’s mouths because we couldn’t stop kissing long enough for Asher to properly walk us to where we needed to go. I got a quick glimpse of his room—tasteful, in masculine shades of blue and gray—and then I was landing flat on the bed and scrambling backwards to give him room, f
eeling myself continuing to grin.

  My cheeks were going to hurt later on from so much smiling, but I didn’t care. Not when Asher was crawling up the bed towards me and looking at me like he wanted to devour me.

  “You are just the most gorgeous fucking person,” he informed me, kissing me full on the mouth.

  “Now you’re just being a kiss-ass,” I replied, tugging at his shirt to get it off of him.

  He was wearing just a T-shirt, something I had rarely seen him in, and probably a sign of what a wreck he’d been for the last week. I liked the idea that he’d been a wreck because of me, seeing as I’d been a wreck because of him.

  “It’s all 100% truth,” Asher assured me.

  I shoved him back so that I could get a good look at all of the skin that I’d missed the last week, his chest and shoulders and stomach. I leaned in, running my tongue over his body, reacquainting myself with the taste of him. Asher made a choked noise and his hands started yanking at my own shirt and jeans, trying to get them off while I was still tonguing at his abs and nipples, which was not the smoothest idea ever.

  “You know you’re going to have to wait for me to finish to get those off, right?” I asked, pausing.

  “Your mouth is sin and I want you naked,” Asher replied, as if that answered my question.

  I sighed and let him help me out of my clothes, pretending to be extremely put-out about the hassle, but I think the stupid grin still plastered on my face ruined that somewhat. Then, we were kissing again, slow and languid, like we had all the time in the world.

  And we did, I realized. We actually did have all of the time, because he wasn’t trying to just give me an orgasm and then leave, and I wasn’t stuck in limbo wondering if we were together or not. He loved me and I loved him, so we could take our time.