Page 31 of Broken Chords
Chapter Twelve
Dominant:the fifth degree of the scale, called dominant because it is next in importance to tonic, the first degree. A dominant chord is any chord built upon that pitch.
Charlie
I sit on the bed and watch as Damian bends over to grab his underwear, enjoying the way his muscles flex and play under the smooth expanse of skin on his ass. His leg hair on his upper thighs is fuzzy and soft, as is his treasure trail. He only has a sprinkling on his upper chest. My boyfriend isn’t very hairy, which is just fine with me. Enough to know he’s not a prepubescent boy, not so much you could describe him as furry.
He turns, a wad of fabric still in his hands. “I’m clean, you know.”
My eyes find his, serious and steady, and I smile. “That’s good. I am too. But I’m not on the pill or anything.”
He nods and bends to get dressed. “Okay. Just thought I’d mention it.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. Part unbridled happiness—Damian said he loves me!—part amusement at how fast he went from insisting we wait to have sex to insisting we have sex as soon as possible. “I tried it once when I was nineteen. I cried almost every day the first month I was on it. Then I gained ten pounds even though I hadn’t changed anything about my diet or exercise program. My mom accused me of sneaking food or lying about my calorie counts, but weight gain is a documented side effect of hormonal birth control.” I shrug. “My mom was willing to deal with the mood swings, but she wouldn’t let me gain weight like that. So I haven’t taken it since.”
He straightens slowly, and this time when he looks at me his gaze isn’t heated with lust, it’s incensed. “Wait. You chose to take birth control, but your mom made you quit because you gained a few pounds? Are you serious?”
Heat prickles over my skin. “Well, it wasn’t quite like that. I wanted to quit taking them too. I hated the way they made me feel.”
“But you would’ve kept taking them anyway if you hadn’t gained weight.”
I drop my eyes, pulling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. “My mom is obsessed with my weight.” I let out a weak laugh. “She’d be horrified if she knew I’ve already gained almost ten pounds since I’ve been here. She’d tell me I’ve gotten fat.”
Damian’s silent, and I glance up to see his eyes sweeping over my body, cataloguing everything. “You’re not fat.” He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“Well, I have had to buy bigger clothes already.”
“No. Don’t do that. You’re not fat. If you gained weight, it’s because you weren’t eating enough before.” He stalks back to the bed, leaning over me, unwinding my arms from around my legs, stretching me out on the bed, running his hands over my rounder curves. “You look … soft. Lush. Beautiful.”
He kisses my mouth, the tip of each breast, my belly. “I love the way you look,” he whispers against my skin. “Which is part of the reason we’re about to go buy condoms at almost eleven o’clock on a Sunday night.”
Standing, he reaches for his jeans. “Now get dressed. I’ve waited long enough. I’m not waiting anymore.”
With a laugh, I get off the bed and retrieve my own clothes. “Suddenly overcome by lust?”
He stops with his shirt in his hand, hooking one arm around my waist and pulling me close. “No. Not lust. Love. I’ve been waiting because I want to make love to you. I want to savor you and take my time. And I want you to make love to me.”
My breath freezes in my lungs at his words. He presses another hard kiss to my mouth, which jumpstarts my ability to breathe again. “I want that, too.”
I’ve never made love to anyone. I’ve had guys tell me they love me because they thought it would make me more likely to sleep with them. Jared did that. And when that didn’t work, he threatened to sell me out to the tabloids. After I placated him with a blowjob, he told me if I didn’t have sex with him, he’d tell the tabloids the truth about what a good cocksucker I am. I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.
But with Damian, it’s all different. I wanted to do that for him tonight, because I love him. I want to have sex with him because I love him. Not because he expects it. Or because we’ve been on three dates.
And suddenly, I’m glad he insisted that we wait. It’ll be so much more special now than it would’ve been that first week.
Damian can’t keep his hands off me in the car on the way to the closest pharmacy, where he makes me come inside with him, asking if I have an opinion on the type of condoms we get. Giggling, we settle on a variety pack that claims to provide the most pleasure for both of us. Might as well get the best experience possible, right?
“Next time we’ll go for the Sensitivity Pack,” Damian whispers in my ear as he guides me to the cash register with his arm around my waist.
With a smirk, I shoot back, “That sounds like some kind of HR training manual. The Sensitivity Pack. The Workplace Harassment Bundle.”
Damian cracks up at my joke, ignoring the way the grandmotherly cashier purses her lips and looks us over as she scans the price tag on the box of condoms. I don’t miss it, though. I’m overcome with the urge to scandalize her even more. Something I’d never get away with in my old life. For one thing, it’d be all over the gossip sites in a hot second. And then I’d have to deal with a lecture from my mother from now until eternity about how I need to comport myself in public (yes, she actually uses words like “comport”) and how I’m an example for girls everywhere and need to be cognizant of that fact at all times.
But now I’m just a girl at a store buying condoms with her boyfriend. I can comport myself however the fuck I want.
With a dramatic gasp I turn and clutch Damian’s arm as he’s putting his debit card back in his wallet, making him jump in surprise. “Schmoopsie poo, we forgot the lube!” Grandma behind the cash register drops the condoms with a loud thunk, missing the plastic bag completely.
Damian blinks in surprise before his lips twitch up. “Oh, sweetums, I don’t think we’ll need it. I plan on making sure we have loooots of natural lubrication.”
