Page 35 of From Coast to Coast

“I was pissed when she said that, but then I really thought about it and she was right. I always thought we were good enough together that it wouldn’t matter. But isgood enoughreally what we’re shooting for? Good enough got me three years of marriage, but probably ruined any chanceof keeping her as a friend. I don’t think I want to live forgood enough.”

“No,” I murmur, because I’ve never wanted to settle for that. I want what Troy has with his husband, Sam.

“So, anyway, after we got separated, I decided the best thing to do would be to fuck as many women as I could. Sow all my wild oats, as they say.” He waves a hand to encompass all the people who say that. “And it was nothing but a disappointment. I hated it. Honestly, I have yet to experience that mind-blowing sex that people in romance novels seem to have on the daily.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Romance novels?”

“Yeah. Amanda used to always be reading, and since she was super supportive of my hockey, I figured I’d be super supportive of her reading. We started our own little book club where I’d read the same book she was. They were always romance novels and, Gray”—he looks at me—“some of these books are freaking wild.”

“How so?” I laugh at the expression on his face.

“I can’t even explain it to you. You’ll just have to read them for yourself one day. But my point is, everybody in these damn books has, like, earth-shattering orgasms, and the sex with their partner is the greatest fucking thing to ever happen to them. I can tell you with absolute certainty, I have never had sexthatgood.”

“I’ve sort of lost the thread of where this conversation was going?—"

“Have you?” he challenges, turning in the seat to face me as much as the seat belt will allow.

“I…have I what?”

“Been with someone and felt that level of connection.”

“Uhm.” I stall, trying to act like I’m thinking about iteven though the answer is a giant, resounding no. “I guess not, I don’t know.”

He sighs. “Me either. Do you know how fucking frustrating that is? I was married for three years and the best I can say is we had fun, but apparently both of us could live without it. Without each other.”

“Remy, I’m not sure what we’re talking about at this point, or what you want me to say. Are you trying to tell me that you’re not interested in me anymore? Because that’s fine, if that’s the case. If you’re still trying to get over your wi?—"

“No,” he says emphatically. “Actually, I’m trying to say the opposite. Listen, this is going to be embarrassing as fuck, but I’m going to say it anyway. When you kissed me the other night, that was…” He makes an aggrieved noise in the back of his throat. “That wassomething. And I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Christ, and what the hell am I supposed to say to that?As if I wasn’t already a little nervous about our arrangement, now I’m really getting worked up about it. I don’t want Remy to assign so much meaning to us fooling around. What happens when he’s disappointed?

“Sorry, Gray.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to dump it all on you like that. I’ve been told that I’m a chronic oversharer.”

“That’s all right,” I murmur, glancing over at him and feeling relieved to see him relaxed and smiling.

We settle into a less than comfortable silence after that—him uncomfortable with oversharing, and me uncomfortable with the daunting task of providing the sexual experience he’s apparently read about in romance novels.

No pressure, Gray.

CHAPTER NINE

Remy

I’ve been livingin my brand-new apartment for days, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that Grayson and I have yet to christen the bed. Or the couch. Or really any horizontal surface in this place.

I know I got a little carried away with my talk about mind-blowing orgasms the other day, and I did a spectacularly terrible job of trying to explain what I actually meant. I hadn’t meant to give him an impossible standard to meet—I’d been trying to explain that he’dalreadygiven me an epic first kiss. Probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.And why couldn’t I have just said that to him?

Annoyed with myself, and my stupid-ass sterile apartment, I sit down on my couch and sulk. Before I can really commit to it, my phone rings. Already anticipating that it’ll be Alex, and knowing I’m not in the mood, I let it go to voicemail. When a text message comes through a couple seconds later, I pick it up and see Grayson’s name.

Grayson

Hey, you home?

Remy

Hi! Yeah, why? What’s up?

Grayson