Then he doubles down.
“Whoa. You’re not talking about respect, Marcella,” he finally says, low and rough. “You’re talking about a fuckingtragedy.”
Good God. The air between us shifts, heavier. Even more charged, if possible.
Nope. No.Nada. This ends now.
“It seems to me, you’ve lived your entire life doing what you want with little regard to the people around you.” I dig back in. “You’ve built a reputation around being a man who always takes, never stays.”
His expression shifts—subtly. Enough to make me wonder if I went too far again.
Almost.
“You think those encounters define who I am as a person? You don’t know me. Not at all.” There’s definitely something wounded in the way his voice cracks.
I swirl the last of the deep-red liquid in my glass, thinking.
He needs to hear this. Someone needs to say it to him.
“Seamus.” I soften my tone. “Have you ever considered…the women? Did you ever think those stairwell rendezvous weren’t casual tothem? It might’ve started out a certain way for them—for you. I’m guessing many of them agreed to your conditions to get a turn with the greatOrgasm Whisperer. So, you give them more pleasure than they’ve ever experienced in their life…only to toss them aside? Do you not understand how confusing emotions about experiencing sexual pleasure are to most women?
He flinches slightly, like my words land somewhere deep in his psyche. Somewhere he’s never accessed before.
“I never…” he croaks. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I figured if I was honest about what it was—no strings, no expectations—we’d be on the same page. It works for my brothers—”
“Let me lay it out for you,” I interrupt. “Your friends Tara and Priya were right. Most men don’t care about what their partner feels in bed. They focus on themselves, on their own release, and leave the rest up to chance. You seem to knowexactlywhat you’re doing. You studied to be ‘the best,’ for God’s sake. I don’t get it. Why put so much effort into making sure your women see stars and rainbows and fairy dust only to throw them away? For someone who prides himself on his bedside manner with patients, I’m shocked at how cavalier you are when it comes to sex.” I take a breath. “If I had to guess, most of them didn’t even know what an orgasm felt like before you got involved. So yeah, they probably caught actual feelings. While you maintain a clinical distance and walk away, oblivious.”
His nostrils flare, and for a second, I think he’s going to argue.
He doesn’t. His palms rest on the edge of the table like he’s bracing for impact.
“I didn’t ever consider…I didn’t know,” he says sadly.
“I’m not surprised. I don’t think you ever thought past the moment.” I signal the waiter for the check. “From how you’ve described it, for you, it was research. A little release. For them? It was something else entirely. Something they probably didn’t even expect to feel until it was already too late.”
Neither of us speaks for a second, the quiet settling in like a storm about to break.
His throat bobs. “Fuck.” He looks tortured. “Ihurtthem?”
“Yes. You’re a fool to think otherwise.” I exhale with exasperation.
He stares at some invisible spot on the table.
Seamus McGloughlin is completely, utterly shaken.
Needing a moment to steady myself and give him a break, I focus on paying the bill. This conversation has veered into dangerous, deeply personal territory, and the way he looks now? Like I’ve stripped him down to nothing?
It’s rattling something in my chest I don’t want to examine too closely.
The waiter hands me the receipt and I reach for my purse so I can get the hell home.
“Who made you feel this way?” He peers from under his unruly hair as we put on our coats.
I blink. “What?”
“Which guy hurtyou?” He gestures at me. “Made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Made you believe you didn’t deserve to feel good?”
I nearly choke. I'd hoped he missed that particular revelation. “None of your business. We’renottalking about me.”
