Page 52 of Center Sneak

I also know she was married young, and when she divorced, she moved to the East Coast to live with her brother. I now know that when I first laid eyes on her in Seb’s apartment, she had just gotten out of her relationship. She moved in with Sebastian a few days before, and her brother was helping her get situated. The foundation wasn’t formed yet.

When it was, the first project for women in need was assisting women get back on their feet after domestic violence. There are many different projects and offshoots, but DV was and still is the backbone.

I’m assuming it’s personal. If it is, as I expect, she can tell me whenever she is ready. I am in no rush. I’ve already waited five years; I can wait longer.

“I’m just happy you are here,” I quietly say, looking into her eyes. I don’t know why, but I need her to know that. I’m in no way upset that we aren’t doing anything more. I never thought I’d even have this with her.

“You are?” She blinks once.

“Yes, of course.”

Why wouldn’t I be happy that my Lettie is here and in my bed?

She scoots her butt a little closer to me, just inches away from me.

“Do you mind cuddling me instead?” she whispers.

“Not at all.”

She moves closer to me, but then flips directions to spoon. I wrap my hands around her body as she squirms her butt closer, brushing her bottom against my dick.

“Careful, sweetheart. Any more moves and I’m going to be poking you in the ass.”

She tilts her head down, and I don’t need to be facing her to know that her cheeks are an adorable shade of red.

“Really?” Her voice is in awe.

“Yeah, really. I’m surprised you don’t feel anything right now because I’m doing a terrible job at holding back.”

She bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but laugh with her, breaking the nervous energy between us.

“Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Anything for you,” I say, meaning every word. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I don’t want to pressure her into telling me anything, especially if she’s not ready, but I also want her to know that she’s safe with me. I hope she knows that.

My eyes are staring across the room at the wall, but I feel her head tilting along my chest.

“So,” she begins. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm.”

My eyes go wide. This is definitely not the conversation that I thought we would be having. I’m also very surprised.

“What?”

“I mean, maybe I have?”

I think you would know.

I keep my internal thoughts to myself, though, and practice my active listening.

“Maybe when I was younger? Because if I wasn’t having really great orgasms at nineteen, like why did I fall into marriage so easily, ya know?” She pauses. “I take that back. I must have, but it’s been so long.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She sighs. “I sometimes wish I wasn’t so broken.”

I pull her in tighter and rub circles around her back with my free hand. I want to disagree or find a solution for her, but I keep my mouth shut and my ears open.