Living In The Shallows (UK Crush #1)

Chapter Forty-Four

Apparently I could hurt it a lot. He gasped, a sort of hiss, between gritted teeth, and quickly pulled away. He turned away from me, muttered something about the toilet, and took off.

I reassembled myself, redid my hair, got a bottled water from the attendant, folded the blanket, and waited for Teddy to reappear so I could apologize for whatever I'd done.

He returned about five minutes later, looking flushed and abashed, and sat down next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder, turned to me, and said "Look, I'm sorry," at the same moment that I said, "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he asked me curiously.

"Well, I assume I must have hurt you pretty badly for you to react the way you did," I stammered. "Actually, I'm a little embarrassed, because I'm not exactly sure what I did. I—I don't know enough to know what I did wrong," I admitted. Fuck. This sucked.

"So this would be the down side to being with someone with no experience, I guess," I said.

"Well, for a genius who's working on her PhD and whatnot, you've certainly got the wrong end of the stick," he said, giving me a friendly squeeze and kissing my temple.

"So you're saying I didn't hurt you?" I asked.

"No," he said emphatically. "In fact, quite the opposite."

"The opposite?" I asked. "You acted like I poked you with a cattle prod! You jumped out of your seat and ran to the bathroom faster than the speed of light! So how is that a good thing?"

"Oh, this is embarrassing." He shook his head and looked down at his lap. He turned his head and looked at me, eyebrow cocked. "When we were kissing, making out, I guess, when I was touching you, it was very exciting, I was very excited. So when you went, uh, south of the border, I was already in quite a state of arousal, shall we say. And when you actually went for the touch, I almost shot my load right in my trousers. Nothing like that's happened to me since I was, like, god, maybe never. I mean, except maybe when I used to have dreams way back at the beginning."

I was staring at him. "I'm not sure how to ask this," I said, my embarrassment maybe equal to his. "Um, is this, normal for you?"

"No." His answer was emphatic and confused at the same time. "I mean, not to brag or anything, but I'm actually kind of known for my stamina and endurance where women are concerned." He heard his own words, and we both started laughing. "Oh, fuck, I'm such an asshole."

"So is it, um, because it's been awhile?" I asked tentatively. "You haven't been with anyone during the whole five weeks of the tour. I mean, have you?" I looked at him.

He shook his head.

"So could that be it?"

"I don't think so." He shook his head.

"So why, then?" I looked at him.

"Honestly?" he looked at me. "I think it's just you."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about? You mean because I'm so, um, sexy and seductive and stuff?" I couldn't keep the laughter out of my voice.

"Oh, Birdie, don't talk about yourself like that," he said, looking at me, stroking my cheek. "It makes me so upset when I hear you talk about yourself in that tone of voice." He leaned forward and kissed me, slowly, and leaned back. "You are pretty and so, so, sexy." He smiled, nodding. "Yeah."

I sat up slightly. "What do you see when you look at me?" I asked wonderingly. "How can you possibly date those thin, gorgeous models and think I'm sexy?"