The Sex Cure

by Cara Lockwood

  An hour. Tops.

  Then he got a better idea. What they needed, he thought, was a little getaway. Where he couldn’t be dragged into work, or trapped there.

  But...what would you say about a new lesson? Have you ever had vacation sex?

  He waited for her response.

  Only once. In a tent at a campground.

  He shook his head. Having sex in a sleeping bag while fighting off mosquitos was not the vacation sex he had in mind.

  Doesn’t count. You need a lesson in real vacation sex.

  Her answer came fast.

  Then why don’t you teach me?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HARLEY KNEW SHE was beyond help, the second she’d stepped off his helicopter that landed on his massive estate in Aruba. He’d flown her in his private jet direct, and the helicopter had whisked them off on a tour of half the island before landing on his gated estate near the shoreline, surrounded by blue-green water. Her whole body vibrated with anticipation. She was going to enjoy this next lesson. Hell, she enjoyed them all. Just when she thought he couldn’t possibly teach her any more, there he went and surprised her. The man was a bottomless wealth of sex, a walking Kama Sutra. But he ought to be, with the long list of partners to teach him. She pushed that thought away. She wouldn’t think about the other women. When she did, her stomach felt tight. Tight with jealousy.

  Which she did know was foolhardy. She had no right to be jealous. He’d told her in straight terms he didn’t want commitment. She could also see that he’d been a man who’d avoided emotional entanglements all his life. Breaking through the walls he’d built around his heart wouldn’t be easy. Actually, she knew she couldn’t do it. He had to be the one to take a sledgehammer to them. He’d have to want to do it and he wasn’t ready for that. Would he ever be ready for that?

  Could she even seriously think about trying to have a real relationship with him? What happened when they had an inevitable hiccup? When Wilder ran out of new things to show her? Or when he inevitably had a setback? He saw her as a cure for his impotence, but long term, the same psychological troubles that plagued him the first time would return. He’d need to unpack some serious emotional baggage not to suffer any setbacks. She couldn’t be a cure for him. He’d have to be a cure for himself.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Wilder asked her, as the two lounged on deck chairs on his massive patio overlooking the blue-green sea. In front of them was a small square-shaped pool, crystal clear water that sat still, looking like a pane of glass.

  “I was just thinking about how this feels like we’re running away,” she said, shading her eyes from the bright sun above them.

  “That’s because we are,” he said. “And, of course, this is all about new lessons.”

  “Indeed.” She laughed. God, she loved his lessons. Could spent a lifetime learning from him. Actually, wished she could. She glanced at his bare chest, thick with muscle. His body was a work of art, and she could stare at it all day. The monster in her was always ready to come out. The one she wasn’t sure she could control. Or, hell, that she even wanted to control anymore. “So, why are we here?”

  “What do you mean? It’s all about the formal education of Harley Vega.”

  “And about Wilder Lange avoiding some stress at home. Or work.” She eyed him above her sunglasses. She stretched out on the armless lounger beneath the warm Caribbean sun and the cloudless blue sky.

  Wilder stared at her a beat and then laughed. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Ms. Vega?”

  “No, I don’t, Mr. Lange. I think you know that about me by now.”

  A teasing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I know that and so much more.” Wilder grabbed her chair and scooted her closer so their legs were touching. He planted a long deliberate kiss on her lips. Harley pulled away first.

  “Do you?” she asked him, a little breathless.

  “I do,” he said, grinning. And then he rolled on top of her, so his bare chest was against her, the only fabric between them her thin yellow bikini. He shifted his weight and Harley could feel his want, stretching the fabric of his swim trunks. The monster in her, the one that seemed never to be satisfied, came to life then, a flicker of movement in her belly. Her lips found his and their tongues entwined together. She hungered for him, for his taste, for the feel of him inside her. Harley told herself to tread lightly, told herself that what they had wouldn’t—couldn’t—last, and that the more she invested of herself in him, the more she’d be brokenhearted down the road.

  He moved away from her then, sliding off her body and standing up.

  “Time for a new lesson, I think.” He tossed his sunglasses down on the lounge chair. “Have you ever had swimming pool sex?”

  She shook her head once. “Never really had the chance.”

  “Well, then. Let the lesson commence.” He held out his hand and she took it, as he led her deliberately to the pool. They stepped into it, the small rigid steps near them leading them into the cool water. Once they were waist deep, Wilder pulled Harley into his arms and kissed her again, open-mouthed and hungry. The water slid between their bodies as he pulled her close, and she felt the heat of his hard-on even through the swim trunks and the water. He moved her to the edge of the pool, facing away from the house. When he pulled back, his eyes seemed to devour her.

  “What’s the first part of the lesson?” she asked him, trying to catch her breath.

  “The first part is this.” He reached back and untied the bottoms of her string bikini. They floated up to the top of the water, a triangle of yellow fabric. “The second part is...” He reached down and his fingers found her beneath the water. She glanced around, almost reflexively checking to see if they were alone.

  “No one is here,” he said. “But even if they were, they can’t see below the water.” His finger traveled inside her and she gasped. He kissed her again and it felt as if she’d melt straight into him. She wasn’t sure where his lips began and hers ended, just that kissing him was the best damn thing she’d ever done in her life. And then there were his fingers. His amazing fingers. Exploring her, heightening all her senses, making the monster in her howl.

  Distantly, she heard his smart-watch ping, the sound of an incoming message. He was hardly ever unplugged, but then again he had a corporate empire to run, so it’s not as if she expected him to completely disconnect. On the flight here, he’d kept his nose buried in his laptop. There was a delicate deal in the works to buy a German broadband company. She figured the message had something to do with that. But she also felt as if she should rise to the challenge of trying to distract him from work. He needed to relax, too. He glanced at the face of his watch and frowned. While he read his messages, she reached down and felt the front of his swim trunks, hoping to slip her hand down the waistband. When she did, however, she found he wasn’t ready.

  Surprised, she began to massage him...but nothing.

  At her touch, he stepped back from her, sending waves across the pool. He glanced down, and even reached for himself. But whatever he tried failed.

  He cursed and glanced at her, an apology on his face.

  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching for him, but again, he pulled away. Soon, he was hefting himself out of the pool, dripping from head to toe, as he moved away from her to the towels folded on the chairs. She knew this might happen, feared it would. He hadn’t really dealt with his issues, thinking he’d been cured when he hadn’t. And despite all her training, all the research she’d done on human sexuality that told her people couldn’t fix other people of their shortcomings, she’d also come to believe she might be the cure. She wanted to be his remedy. But now, she saw that she wasn’t. “We need to talk about it.”

  “It’s just me. Just my damn body. It doesn’t work.” Wilder punched the stack of towels in frustration.

  “Let’s talk about it. We ca
n work through this.”

  He shook his head, water droplets flying. “I need a minute.” Wilder retreated into the house, leaving Harley waist deep in the pool, wondering if he planned to come back.

  * * *

  Wilder’s body had failed him again. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted Harley Vega more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his whole life, and yet, he was having issues—again. He felt less than a man, less than a human being. How could this happen? Her kiss ignited a powerful want in him, and yet his body seemed determined to douse that flame. Why? How could he have a real relationship with Harley if his body wasn’t going to cooperate? Would he be doomed to platonic relationships with women for the rest of his life?

  He angrily dried his hair with a towel, having retreated to his bedroom to get his bearings. It’s what he always did if this happened. Retreat, compose himself and then pretend it never happened. Hadn’t he been doing that for the past year?

  Of course, this time, a text message from his corporate attorneys. Lucinda had succeeded in persuading the FCC to investigate Lange Communications. That was enough to completely take the wind out of his sails. In that second, he’d felt the whole weight of the world on his shoulders, and then...his body had just shut down. Like it usually did. His mind running in a million directions, none of them to fun places, and all of them away from the beautiful woman in his arms.

  He needed to focus on her, and then maybe he could get a hard-on. But, no, there was the company...and Lucinda’s endless efforts to steal the business out from under him. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier than usual. If he weren’t careful, he’d slip into a pity party, one where he’d lament the fact that he was always the responsible one, always the one doing the work no one else wanted to do, that he was literally tearing himself down in order to hold the family up. But Wilder didn’t have time for pity parties. They were a waste of time and energy.

  Besides, he had no excuses. He knew who was to blame: himself. He never should’ve invited Harley here, never should’ve promised her a good time when he damn well knew that he might not be able to deliver. Sure, they’d had the best two months of his life, but hadn’t he feared that it was all somehow temporary? That the demons that haunted him would raise their ugly heads sooner rather than later?

  He had no idea what was dragging him down, why his body was so determined to fail him, but he knew there was this weakness lurking in him. He felt horrible that he’d disappointed Harley, embarrassed that she’d seen him that way. He wondered if she’d flee now, if he ought to give her the opportunity to leave, to go back to New York. The worst part was that he had really and truly thought he was cured. But now he realized if an amazing woman like Harley—a woman who affected him so deeply in so many ways—couldn’t cure him, then how could he ever hope to get his libido back? How could he ever hope to be normal again?

  Then again, he was being stupidly selfish. Yes, this was a problem, but it was an issue other men faced. It wasn’t as if he had cancer, or a fatal disease. There were starving children in the world, so who cared if he could get it up or not? He was being silly, immature and weak. Maybe that’s why his body was having such problems. It was all a mental failing on his part. He was weak, that was his problem.

  He angrily finished drying himself with a towel and grabbed a dry shirt from his dresser and he yanked it over his head. Then he stepped out of his wet swim trunks and into dry gym shorts, stabbing his legs into each hole. Maybe Lucinda had been right about him all these years, maybe he was a failure. How often had she screamed that at him in a drunken rage? That he was doomed to fail, that he would never live up to the Lange name, that secretly his father was embarrassed by him? Sure, she’d always waited until his father was gone to make such accusations, but even these many years later, they still affected him. Hell, Lucinda even now was winning.

  A soft knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” His voice came out gruffer than he intended.

  “Can I come in?” Harley’s voice came softly through the door. He wanted to tell her to not bother, that there wasn’t anything she could do. He’d come to realize for the first time that he was truly alone, that his dysfunction was a problem that might never be solved. But he also knew that would make him sound like a toddler, and he was a grown man. Despite what his body might think.

  “Yes,” he answered and turned to face the door. She stood in the open frame in her bikini top, her hair wet and a towel slung around her waist. He wondered, fleetingly, if she’d put her bottoms back on, or if they were still floating in his pool. She looked amazing, as usual, gorgeous, and he wondered why his body refused to respond. It must be willfully blind. He took a deep breath and braced himself. Would she be angry? Disappointed? Amused? He’d faced them all with other women who’d seen his failure in action. Instead, she walked straight in and wrapped her arms around him. He froze, not sure what to do. She squeezed him hard, and then pulled away.

  “We’re going to talk about this,” she told him, her light brown eyes flashing with determination.

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care. We’re going to talk about it. Now.” She pushed against his chest. “Take a seat.”

  “With that tone, I don’t think I can argue.” He sat. She sat next to him, her toweled legs against his.

  “First of all, not being able to...get in the mood—” she nodded at his lap “—isn’t a big personal failure. It happens sometimes. We don’t all live in romance novels where the hero is always ready all the time.”

  “But I should be able to do it. I want to do it. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I think I’m...” He almost said falling for you. What the hell was he doing? This was casual. This wasn’t anything more than that. Was he falling in love with his cure? The symmetry of it seemed poetic, and yet, he was a man who lived in reality and reality told him there was no way that a woman who knew of all his weaknesses...his shortcomings...could ever truly love him. How could Harley respect him now? “Anyway, you’re my cure. And now I’ve somehow ruined it.”

  “I was never your cure.”

  “I don’t understand. Of course you were.” How else to explain the last two amazing months? He’d never had sex so remarkable in his life, and that had everything to do with Harley Vega.

  “No. I was a distraction.” She sighed and sat down next to him. “If you want my opinion, the reason this is happening is Lucinda.”

  “How?”

  “She was an abusive, overbearing figure in your life. And she was a woman. And she undermined you then and now. When you looked at your watch in the pool, was it something about Lucinda and the company?”

  He nodded.

  “I thought so. I also think she’s preventing you from having serious relationships.”

  “I don’t get what you mean.” His relationships were his choice. Not hers. She wasn’t controlling his life. Not now, not ever. The very thought that she was somehow reaching into his personal life, hell, into his bedroom, and mucking things up made his blood boil.

  But Harley wasn’t finished.

  “I think you’re using sex to project strength. Virility. But more than that, you deliberately leave broken hearts in your wake. Publically. You’re the one doing the rejecting. I think that’s because you were rejected by your stepmother, and you want to make sure everyone knows that’s not going to happen to you again.”

  Wilder felt exposed. Could she be right? But surely he didn’t give a damn about Lucinda rejecting him? Why would he ever want her approval? And yet....yet...maybe something in it was true. “You’re saying that because I had an evil stepmom, I’m seeking revenge on all the starlets and pop stars I can get my hands on? It sounds like I’m an asshole.”

  “I don’t think you do it knowingly,” Harley said.

  “So that makes me an oblivious asshole.” Wilder didn’t
like where this conversation was headed. He didn’t use the women he dated. He was completely upfront about how he wasn’t planning on settling down, about how marriage was not in the cards right now, if ever. All of them had told him that was fine with them. He often thought some of the broken hearts were just convenient for their careers. He never intended to hurt anyone. That was how he operated.

  “No. It makes you a person with past scars that haven’t been dealt with—yet.” Harley reached out and touched his knee. He felt the shock of the contact, the warmth of her hand. It was a kind gesture, yet all he could think of was the current between them, the circuit that wasn’t closed.

  He stood. It all felt so overwhelming and so damn close to the truth in his core. Was he haunted by Lucinda? He thought he’d long since made sure she could never hurt him again, but was she doing it, now in his own head? Were his memories doing her dirty work for her? He hated the thought. But hadn’t he feared this could be true? So close to his fortieth birthday, he’d begun taking stock of his life in a way he’d never done before. And thoughts of Lucinda, of his childhood, had been popping up. Yet, getting older should have made the memories seem further away, not closer. Suddenly, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. Didn’t want to think that he was damaged, that he might not ever be right. And maybe Harley wasn’t his cure, because there was no cure to be had.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not my cure.” He walked away from her but glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe this isn’t working out after all.” She looked ashen suddenly.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought he was rehabilitated, but it turned out it was all just a silly mirage.

  “Wait.” She stood as well and moved to him. The fact that she seemed so perfect then, so beautiful and fragile and strong all at the same time unnerved him.

  “No,” he said. “You’re right. You’re not the solution. I was dumb to think so.”

  “I think you can cure yourself,” she said. “And I can help you.” A small flame of hope lit in his chest. “What do you think about switching roles? I think I have a lesson to teach you.”