It Takes Two (19 page)

She snorted. “It feels good every time, Shane. Trust me.”

“Sure, it feels good.” He gave her a cocky grin. “But it feels
better
when you’re in charge. You get all the sexy stuff going—like the Nutella blow job or the finger vibrator while on the Ferris wheel—because then I’m overcome and distracted and you can do it however you want.”

She shifted on her seat and swallowed. Dammit. She didn’t know he was quite this insightful. “I do it because it’s fun and sexy and I want you to go crazy for me.”

“But you know very well that all you have to do to make it fun and sexy and crazy is say, ‘Shane, spread me out and make me scream’.”

She sucked in a quick breath and had to wiggle again. Damn. She’d just had two orgasms and she was aroused and hot all over again.

“See, that’s all I need,” Shane went on, conversationally, as if they were discussing his last football game. “But you keep it more…interesting than that.”

“You don’t like it interesting?” she asked, her tone sharper than she’d intended.

“I like it. Every time, every way. But I think there’s more to it.”

She bit the inside of her lip and worked on not saying anything at all. It didn’t matter. He could theorize all he wanted.

“I think we need to review how this vanilla sex is going to work,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, blowing the not-saying-anything rule immediately.

“Vanilla sex, by definition, primarily refers to the missionary position.” He looked over. “That’s you on your back and me on top.”

“Yes. I know. Thank you,” she said tightly. She didn’t want to get into this. He was going to think he had to take it easy with her. He was going to change how he did things. She
loved
how he did things now. She didn’t want him to be worried, or careful.

“But it seems to me, as I mentally review our positions and routines—”

“You’ve mentally reviewed every time we’ve had sex?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It wasn’t that hard. After all, I’ve been mentally reviewing them periodically for the past six months.”

“Our
routines
are fine.”

“But there are some patterns. For instance, you like standing-up positions best. You also like being on top, specifically in a sitting position, even more specifically facing me. You are okay with all fours, but you prefer bent over a table.”

She was getting hot just hearing him talk about it, even as he was annoying the crap out of her.

“Your least favorite is missionary.”

She gritted her teeth.

“And I’m guessing it’s because in missionary, especially when you’re spread out on the bed and I’m standing, I can get especially deep. And can go fast and hard.”

Now she had to clear her throat. Wow. Shane was potent.

“Stop it.”

He looked over at her. “Stop what? We need to talk about this stuff.”

“Don’t make me pull this car over, Shane. Because I will. I’ll pull over at the next rest area and climb up on that hood and beg you to do what you just said. Deep. Fast. And hard.”

A pained sound rumbled from him and she smiled smugly. She wasn’t the only one affected by their chemistry and the dirty talk.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Iz,” he finally said. “That’s the point. You’ve been doing all of this stuff—partying, road trips, crazy sex, to prove that you’re fine.”

“There’s nothing to prove. I’m not dying, Shane. I haven’t lost a body part. I can walk and talk and think and dance and have sex in any position and as hard as I want to!”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he took a deep breath. “Isabelle. We have to think about how what you’re doing affects us and make some adjustments—”

“No.” She was making some changes. She didn’t want to. She’d fought it. But now she was realizing that the everything-in-moderation rule wasn’t a bad one. She just wanted to feel good. “I don’t want
us
to make any adjustments. I don’t want
you
to change anything.”

“It says in here that—”

Irritated, she reached over and grabbed the book and threw it into the backseat. It was irrational. Not reading the book didn’t make the information inside of it any less true. “You need to hear about
my
condition from
me
,” she told him.

That was also irrational. She didn’t know everything there was to know and it was sweet that he was trying. In the bookstore, the idea of him reading up on fibromyalgia had made her heart melt a little. And now she wanted to hit him over the head with the book.

“Are mood swings part of the fibro? Or is that just you?” he asked smoothly.

Yeah, if she could reach the book now she’d definitely whack him with it.

“Shut up.”

“So a little of both?”

“Shane, seriously—”

“Isabelle,” he said firmly. “We’re going to talk about this. If you were managing it well and figuring out how to live your life with it, I’d listen. But you’re not. I’ve spent a lot of time with you, girl, and when I’m not
with
you, I’m watching you or listening to you. You haven’t made any adjustments that make sense.”

He was judging her now?

“Hey—”

“You go to a hotel and crash for two days? You miss work? You lie to the people who care about you most but you unload to a bunch of strangers in a support group? How is this handling it?”

Shane was calling her on her shit. Great.

“You’re pissed that I can be honest with people who aren’t
you
?”

“No.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe a little. Support groups are great, I’m sure. I’m glad it’s helping you. But that can’t be the only thing you do. Just because you went and finally confessed to someone doesn’t mean that you’re fine.”

“What do you want me to do? Break down in tears? Pop a bunch of pills so I can keep doing what I’ve always done? Stay home and knit
every
night? What?”

“I want you to…” He trailed off, clearly frustrated. “I want you to do what you can do, but make adjustments so you’re healthy and happy.”

“Well, why do you think I’ve been trying to break up with you for the past two months?” she shot at him.

The words seemed to hang between them. Isabelle gripped the steering wheel and worked on calming breaths. Her heart was pounding, her whole body felt tense and tears were threatening. Dammit. They’d just had hot sex in a car wash and now they were fighting.

This was going so well.

Several minutes passed without a sound other than the noise of the interstate. Finally, she said, “I’m learning. I’m trying. But I’m struggling. I don’t want to change my life. I’ve been fighting that idea for a while now. But I’ve realized that my body will always win that battle—it will shut down on me and then I’m done whether I like it or not. No, I don’t like crashing, missing work and lying. I’m trying to get to a point where I can manage and not have to do those things. But,” she said when he started to respond. “I don’t want anyone else to have to change. Not because I’m a martyr but because I love you. I want
you
to be happy too and changing your life around for me won’t do it. You need to go and find someone who can keep up with you. Like Candy.”

“I don’t want Candy!” he shouted.

She turned wide eyes to him. “I know. I said
like
Candy. Or Tracie or Lila,” she added. “A girl who can party and who, apparently, doesn’t give as many blow jobs as I do.”

The idea of another woman even looking at Shane’s body made her sick to her stomach, but she was trying to lighten things up here. And it was true. It might kill her, but Shane deserved to be with someone more like him…and less like her.

“I like the fucking blow jobs,” he muttered.

Of course he did. She was damned good to start with and then he’d taught her exactly what he liked. Plus she’d read some books that gave her even more things to try. Was she less sore the next day after oral sex? Yeah. But honestly, it completely turned her on and made her happy to do that for him.

“You’re purposefully missing my point,” she said.

“No, I get your point. I don’t like it, but I understand it.”

“Well…good.” That should make her happy, she knew. It did, actually, on one level. But it also made her heart hurt. He was starting to see her side of things. The side that said they were probably better off apart.

“I need some water or something,” he said, gesturing at the sign for the next exit.

“Oh, I have water in the cooler in back…” She trailed off when she glanced at him and saw the look he was giving her. Right. Okay. That was an excuse to stop and get some space. Great.

He was probably already regretting leaving his motorcycle in Mitchell.

She signaled and took the exit.

Shane got out and stalked into the store, while Isabelle took her time following him. Space was a good thing, time to think, get some perspective, all of that.

She stepped into the store and looked around. Not seeing Shane immediately, she wandered down one of the snack aisles. She wasn’t hungry, but gummy bears were always a good idea.

She grabbed a package and again looked around for Shane. It probably seemed like she was casing the joint or something, she realized, so she strolled to the closest cooler with drinks and pulled out a bottled Frappuccino.

“You’re not even trying.”

She jumped and spun. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?” she demanded.

Shane frowned down at her. “I didn’t sneak up.” He took the bottled coffee from her and returned it to the cooler.

“Seriously?” she asked him. “You’re going to monitor my diet now?”

“Clearly someone has to,” he said, gesturing to the candy in her hand. “Sugar
and
caffeine are two things they recommend you cut back on.”

She reached back into the cooler and grabbed the bottle again. “It’s a work in progress.”

“If I’m going to be in bed watching
Friends
re-runs with you every night, then you’re going to drink more water and lay off the lattes.”

She was again speechless for a moment. How did he know there were
Friends
re-runs on at night? How did he know what
Friends
was? “This isn’t a latte,” she finally said.

“It’s caffeine and sugar.” He took it from her hand and put a bottle of water in its place. “At least cut the crap in half.”

“Can you even name one of the characters on
Friends
?” she asked.

“Rachel.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”

“Jennifer Aniston’s hot.”

Isabelle stared at him. Then snorted. “You’ve watched
Friends
?”

“No. I’ve seen interviews and shit,” he told her. “And they advertise the re-runs during the early news.”

“You watch the early news?” See, she didn’t even know that about him. When they were together they were…definitely not watching the news.

“I take pride in being an educated and informed American citizen,” he said dryly, taking the gummy bears away and giving her a package of cashews instead. “Nuts have good fat in them, and protein.”

She must have looked surprised again because he gave her an exasperated look. “I read too.”

“I’m just trying to reconcile in my head that the man who invented an alcoholic drink at Trudy’s and named it after me because it includes maraschino cherries in memory of one very sexy night where we used up an entire jar, is now lecturing me about my water and sugar intake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re right. That’s probably one more of the routines we should take off of our list. Nothing vanilla about maraschino cherries.”

“Yeah, but it’s oral sex and we’ve already discussed, at length, how that’s okay.” She turned to stomp away from him and came up short when she realized a young dad and his two little kids stood behind her waiting for them to move so they could reach the bottles of juice.

The conversation had, thankfully, gone over the kids’ heads. They were busy arguing over apple or grape juice. But the dad had definitely heard and understood every word.

He swallowed hard.

“Cherry brandy is better in it than cherry vodka,” she said, then flounced around him without waiting for a response.

She rounded the corner at the end of the aisle determined to find some chocolate-covered pretzels. And Shane better watch out if he thought he was going to take
those
away from her.

She’d just grabbed the biggest bag she could find when she felt a hand on her upper arm.

“I’m getting these and I’m eating every last one of them and you’re not going to say a damned thing,” she said.

“I prefer the ones with white chocolate on them.”

That wasn’t Shane’s voice. She turned. Harris.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted with a smile. She dropped her voice as she glanced around for Shane. “Listen, this isn’t a great time. Can we do this later?”

Shane was annoyed, and keeping up the charade would be harder if he was in a bad mood. But dammit. Her heart still began to gallop with excitement. She definitely felt like diving back into the game. That was way more fun that talking about Shane’s opinion of her snack choices.