Page 37 of Sex Positive

Charlie sips her milkshake, considering his words. She hopes that what Wes says is true for the sake of Victoria’s podcast appearance and the future of the clinic.

“You care about him,” she observes.

Wes shrugs. “We have history together. Sometimes you don’t want to give up on someone.”

“Do you think it will work?” she asks quietly. When he glances at her, she clarifies, “The podcast?”

His gaze softens. Her heart aches at the familiarity. They used to do this all the time—share a meal, talk about their lives—back when her barbs weren’t tipped with disdain, when his smirk wasn’t so sharp and patronizing.

“I think you did the hard part already,” he says. “Theo agreed. Victoria agreed. They met each other, and somehow, Theo didn’t say anything that made her want to slap him.”

He grins, and Charlie relaxes.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Wes adds. “But if it doesn’t work, you’ll find another way to raise the money.”

She stares into her half-finished milkshake. Her body warms at his flattery, his words doing too much for her ego and making it difficult to compartmentalize her feelings.

“I’m coming with you, by the way,” he adds.

“Where?”

“To the podcast recording.”

Her brows rise in surprise. “You don’t have to. It’s a three-hour train ride, and it’s only for the day—”

He waves away her protests. “Don’t worry about it. I have to meet my dad for a work dinner anyway. I can help keep Theo in line.” His lips twitch. “Then again, you already know how to do that.”

Her cheeks heat. How foolish of her to think he wanted to come because of her.

“So.” Wes eats the last of his burger and wipes his fingers on his napkin. “What’s next in our experiment?”

Charlie’s so surprised by the change in topic, she nearly upends the rest of her milkshake. Wes’s eyes glitter with amusement.

She swirls her spoon in the glass. “You saw my list.”

“I saw the absolute failure of anyone else to make you feel good,” he replies, and she swears his voice pitches lower. “Come on. You trust me, right?”

She studies him through narrowed eyes. “Debatable.”

Before she can react, he takes her hand. His thumb begins tracing a path over her knuckles.

“Rogers. Whatelsedo you want to try?”

She stares at their connected hands, her throat dry. Lifting her gaze, she catches the sincerity on his face.

She takes a breath. “I’d classify our first experiment as a success.” His grin widens. She continues, “I like being kissed on the neck. A lot. Next, I’d like to see how it feels when you finger me. I haven’t been able to find a partner who listens when I tell him what feels good and what movements get me off.”

He rests his chin on his other hand, his attention fixed on her.

She glances over his shoulder at a couple seated a few booths away before clearing her throat, her face blazing with heat. “You could incorporate some light hair pulling, too.” She aims for a casual shrug, but it feels more like a spasmodic twitch.

“Hair pulling?” His eyes darken, his thumb still tracking fire over the back of her hand.

“Why is that surprising?”

He smiles. “It’s unexpected.”

She presses her lips together before murmuring, “I’m not the naïve, sheltered girl I used to be, Quinn.”