Nata

Nothing is the way I imagined it to be when I signed the damn contract. The point is not to want, yet it's the only thing I seem to be capable of. I want him to touch me. I want to rest my head on his chest and relax, let go of the restraints. I want him, but that's not what's expected of me. The desire to curl into him is so strong. The best solution would be to leave the room like I did last time, but I said I wouldn't. I fortify myself against the gravitation pull of his body.

"Don't make this a joke when I'm serious," says Phillip.

"Then stop trying to make this fun." I wish I could tell him the way he affects me, but too much is on the line. He specifically wanted this not to be a romantic relationship. I can't miss this chance because my body finds his body attractive. I cross my ankles and glimpse him in the closet's mirror. "This is not what we agreed to. I need you to follow the rules. Or do we seriously need to write the details of our sex into the contract as well?"

"If we were writing it in, what would your rules be?" He rolls on his side and the inches he cut between us bring the heat of his skin closer.

This is ridiculous. I love chemistry but not this kind. I take shallower breaths. "No kissing. No fondling of any kind. You come as quickly as possible. No talking, preferably. You don't even need to undress above the waist." I rattle the checklist I've been creating in my head.

"Huh?"

I pull the sheet up to my chin, as if that'll save me from him. "You have objections?"

"Just feels like you are trying to prove something."

"I'm trying to prove that we are not having fun." And creating a thin layer of protection during the days we have to be this close.

"You keep saying this." He sits up and half turns my way eating up the remaining space, so his knee touches mine. "Why are you so opposed to fun?"

"Because fun has never gotten me any results." I take one of his pillows and cover his crotch. I have seen what he has to offer in that area but doesn't mean he can just...flop around. Although there's surprisingly little flopping going on. I sigh. "Fun is overrated. We have a goal: get pregnant. Let's focus on that. Once we are there, you can go and have all the fun with other people."

"Were you like this as a child? Fun-less?" His words open the door to too many memories I've resolved not to revisit.

"I was plenty fun." Looking at the side of his body and head in the mirror is easier. The doubling of the distance makes the intimacy of our situation less potent. "It's just that our definitions of fun differ."

Phillip runs his eyebrows with his fingers. "Any what is your definition of fun? Walking on coals? Cramming for exams?" he says, frustration lacing his words.

"Learning. Reading. Being productive." I say defensively to the mirror Phillip instead of moving to face him.

"That's work." He waves his hands above his head. "That's not fun."

"Work is fun. You're just not—" I sit up against the headboard reclaiming the distance between us.

"Not smart enough?" He finishes for me. His spine stiffens.

"You're plenty smart." I shake my head. He can't possibly believe that running the sales for his giant company requires less smarts. Different smarts. Different qualities, but it's like comparing apples to oranges. "I told you that years ago."

"Right. We just have different definitions of fun."

"Exactly. You're just not like me. We have nothing in common. Let's keep it this way. We are not dating. We don't need to change each other. We don't need to enjoy each other's hobbies." All the things I shared with Samson. Where did that get me? I rise and wrap the sheet around my torso, covering my bras and my bare bottom. "I want our sex to be productive."

"If that means more of what we did today, I don't think I can do it."

I freeze in my tracks. "What do you mean you can't? You performed quite...adequately." My ears burn at the still fresh memory of the sounds I made. I never make sounds during sex. That was so unnecessary. Embarrassing.

"Is adequately what you strive for in your work?"

"This is not work—"

"It's not supposed to be. But if fucking feels that way."

The swear rings in my ears. Why are we fighting again? "You had an orgasm. You're good. I'm also good. I seriously don't see an issue here."

"I do. I thought I could just be this detached sperm-producer, but I feel like shit doing this and you must feel like shit as well."

"I don't." I square my shoulder. I feel better than I should be. Too good.

"Well, I do feel like shit." The bed squeals as he gets off. "There are two of us in this situation and maybe this is the first compromise we need to arrive to."

"Why is me enjoying the sex so important to you?" I turn to face him. He's naked. I had more conversations with one or both of us naked than I've ever had in this state with anyone.

Phillip rolls his head, rakes his hair with both hands, and pops his lips. "You want the truth?"

"Always." Where is this going?

"I haven't told this to anyone, even Dad." He closes one eye and watches me.

"Fine." I tighten the knot of the sheet around my chest and step away from him toward the window. "Don't tell me."

His hand catches my elbow and I stop. "I just want you to see my perspective."

I cock my hip. "I promise not to use it against you in the future."

"You're so generous." A corner of his mouth curves up.

"Stop stalling." I lightly shove his shoulder. "I have to be up in five hours."

His lips settle back in a flat line. "I'm trying to bare my soul and you still manage to put me on a schedule."

"We can reschedule your soul bearing for tomorrow evening." I round the bed.

Phillip catches my hand and tugs me back onto the bed. I plop down and give him a go-on gesture.

"You know about my reputation," he says.

"Expert salesman?"

Phillip narrows his eyes. "Playboy."

I nod and chew on my lip.

"Do you know how I got it?" He massages his eyes.

I roll mine. "You dated enough models and socialites to keep TMZ in business?"

He drops his hand on his lap and looks at me with mirth in his gaze. "Part of it. But also, because I'm a good lover."

I scoff and instantly regret it. Even without foreplay he got me hot and bothered. My mind goes to the scenarios where his hands roam my body and his lips...no. I focus on his story.

"I'll sound like a bigger dick than I am, but making women come first and a lot is sort of my signature."

I scoff louder this time. "Right. You definitely don't sound humble at all."

"I don't know how else to say it." Phillip sets his elbows on his knees and stares ahead at the blinds covering the window. He sighs forcefully like he can blow my apprehension away. "I might not be gifted in sciences, but I have a proven record in knowing female anatomy. If that ever were part of the curriculum, I would've been an A-student. If I'd spend the same amount of time studying for my university courses as I did practicing sex, I might not have needed your tutoring help."

"Are you telling me you are a sex addict?" I study the curve of his back.

"No." He rises and walks to the window. He opens the blinds and the same streetlamp across the street I observe most nights casts its light on the side of his torso. He braces against the window. "My first girlfriend broke up with me in front of the whole 12th grade's homecoming dance, telling me she had never had an orgasm while we were dating. I most definitely did every time we had sex and thought her moaning was a sure sign, she was getting the same. Until that moment. Chicago of the rich is small enough that changing schools to avoid the whispers behind my back was not a good strategy. Plus, no matter how close Dad and I have always been I wouldn't have told him the reason I wanted to transfer, and I didn't want to lie to my father," he says it on one breath, as if he's afraid he won't continue if he stops.

I want to go hug him. But I also want to give him space. I don't know his well enough to know what he prefers in these situations, so I stay put. "Why did she do it? Couldn't she have done it in private?"

"She's not the villain here." Phillip shakes his head. I wish I could see his face and read more than his words and his voice let me in on. He remains by the window with his back to me. "We were teenagers full of raging hormones. Slightly drunk. She was dancing with another guy. I was jealous. We got into an argument. I don't think she did it on purpose. Heat of the moment more like it. She even apologized later. But it was too late."

"Did you decide to sleep with all the girls at school as a revenge?"

"No." He turns and slides down the wall, his knees drawn into his chest. If he weren't naked, he could look like a little boy, lonely and upset. I get off the bed and sit next to him, not daring to hug him, but hopefully providing support with my closeness. "I was entirely too embarrassed to date for the rest of high school. There wasn't open bullying or anything, but the jokes and teasing never stopped until I graduated."

"I don't think there were a lot of girls having orgasms at high school." I bump my shoulder into his. High school was way different for me but no less brutal. "You couldn't have been the only guy who didn't know what he was doing."

"Sure." Phillip shrugs. "But everyone behaves like they do. My friends' idea was to pay some girls off and have them tell the school I was good in bed, but I actually wanted to figure out sex. I wanted to get better, but I didn't want to let anyone know I wasn't good. To hide my lack of skill, I went through partners like you go through books just to hide that I didn't know what the hell I was doing."

His explanation sorta makes sense, but that is so far from what I would've thought of doing in his situation. "Couldn't you just pick one girl and get better with her?"

He stares into nowhere, his forehead one big crease. "My first year of college I was too afraid that I'll be exposed as someone who doesn't know how to fuck. After joining the fraternity not getting that reputation was of utmost importance. Then I got the reputation and women saw me more as a playboy for a night or a week, not a long-term material. I sorta got used to it?" His voice goes up as if he doesn't believe himself.

"Does it mean the girls I saw you date in college..."

"Date is a lose term." Phillip straightens his legs in front of him. "Consensual sex without expectations of the relationships going beyond."

"The reverse of what we have." I move my hand back and forth between us for emphasis.

"That wasn't the goal." He comes to his defense. "I got better. When I felt my first woman's orgasm ripple through her body that was so"—he rolls his head back—"unmistakable, I wondered how did I not realize it wasn't happening with my girlfriend before. Once I knew I could be consistent at this giving women orgasms thing, I tried having both. Twice. And I failed spectacularly." He laughs bitterly.

I do see his point even though I don't agree that was the best way to handle the situation, but I see how he thought it was. The swirling in my chest resumes. "So, you were okay trying many times with many people when sex was involved but with a relationship twice was enough?"

"Are you shaming me?" Phillip asks half-joking.

5.27.23

Author's Note

This is the 4th version of this chapter. I've been rewriting it all week, but it's the best I can do at the moment. This was originally coming from Phillip's POV, and I flipped the chapter to Nata. It's still not quite what I envisioned in my head. Have to remind myself this is the first draft of the book, and I can edit it later, but I hope you and Nata saw enough into Phillip's past.

Love,

GR