“It doesn’t matter.” Clara flattened her skirt. “If my parents found out the truth, about my job with Jill or . . . you know, you. Oh my God. They’d die.”

Lava swam in his stomach. “So that’s a no-go on fraternizing with porn stars, then?” He shouldn’t be surprised. Had known from the second she arrived that she’d never consider him anything other than a pit stop on the way to the things she really wanted.

“Big time. Wheatons are very sensitive to optics. My mother didn’t want me to date a law clerk during undergrad because he rode a skateboard. I’m supposed to be her saving grace—the one she doesn’t have to worry about embarrassing her.”

Josh clenched his jaw. Occasionally he let himself forget where Clara came from. Right now, that willful ignorance felt fatal. “And she likes the idea of you and Everett?”

Clara leaned over and rearranged the items in the cart from the haphazard positions he’d given them. “She likes his family. Likes that she knows where he came from and how he grew up. I’m pretty sure she and Mrs. Bloom picked out our wedding china when we were in eighth grade.” Her voice took on an edge. “Nobody seems to care that Everett and I have never even kissed.”

A wicked satisfaction spread across his chest. Even if Everett Bloom got to marry her someday, Josh would always be the first man who made her come. But if Clara had the Greenwich version of an arranged marriage, what the fuck was Everett waiting for? Josh could hardly spend more than fifteen minutes with her without wanting to eat her out until he sprained his jaw. “I’m sorry, how is it possible that you’ve carried a torch for that guy since you were a teenager, but somehow you’ve never kissed?”

“Sometimes the anticipation of a kiss is better than the actual experience anyway.” Josh tracked the way she ran the hem of her dress through her fingers, exposing half an inch more of her pale thigh.

If she believed that, clearly she needed more practice. “I’m pretty sure physically kissing is better.”

“That’s because you’re accustomed to instant gratification.” Clara gave him a Cheshire cat smile as she strolled ahead of him, leaving Josh panting at her heels. “Half the pleasure in kissing is the buildup. The obsessing over the other person’s mouth. Thinking about the shape of his lips and the taste of his tongue. Imagining his hands in your hair. Or the way that he’ll hold you.” She stopped and turned toward him. “You can spend a whole night wondering if he’s ever going to pull you in unexpectedly and capture your breath in the middle of a sentence. Or lean in so slowly one morning that the wanting curls your toes and singes your fingertips.”

Josh dug his nails into his palm, hard enough to leave marks. His body didn’t care that she was describing pining for another man. He had no trouble pretending that all the hes in her sentences could be replaced with his name.

“Does he taste like cinnamon or whiskey?” Clara absently traced her bottom lip with the tip of her index finger while holding his gaze. “You imagine, over and over, in a thousand renditions, how he’ll push you up against the wall and press his entire body against yours until you’re trembling with how much you want him to take you.”

His eyes shot to the exposed brick behind her. He’d have no trouble walking her back until the rough stone pressed against her soft body before dropping his mouth to her neck as his hands shoved that flimsy cotton hem to her waist.

Clara’s eyes turned liquid as they found his lips. “Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll barely brush his mouth across yours. Make you lower your chin and beg.”

Josh let out a sound, caught between a groan and a whimper.

The noise seemed to draw Clara out of her stupor. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out in the wrong register. He tried again. “Yes. I was thinking, maybe you should write for the website.”

“Me? Really?”

He focused on keeping his eyes above her nostrils. “You’re good at channeling your emotions. All this thinking about sex but not actually having any is boiling my brain.” His cock pressed angrily against his zipper. She was right. Josh’s body didn’t understand the concept of wanting and not having. Of constant exposure to the object of his desire with zero hope of ever crossing the finish line.

“I know what you mean. All this thinking about sexy people doing sexy things with sexy toys.” She fanned herself with her hand. “I’ve never said the word sexy so much in my life. I feel strung out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He couldn’t do any of the things he wanted. They all involved different parts of Clara’s body. Sweat beaded on his brow as he watched her eyes grow heavy-lidded. It took everything he had to keep from dropping to his knees and pleading with her to put him out of his misery.

“It’s like having an itch you can’t quite scratch.” Her pink tongue traced her pinker bottom lip.

His jaw went slack. “Yes.” God, even her voice was starting to do it for him. Was it possible she was as turned on as he was?

“Well, I suppose you should channel all of that energy into a productive direction.” Clara hauled in hectic breaths.

He hoped “a productive direction” was code for between her thighs.

She shook her head as if to clear it. “Have you tried journaling?”

Josh’s head snapped back and he blinked stupidly. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you said journaling.”

“I did. You should use all of your erotic energy as fuel for next week’s scenes.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s the plan.” Just because he’d never attempted to produce something academic with his sex drive before didn’t mean he would fail. The fact that he’d never written anything longer than an email wasn’t a bad sign. He’d take all of his pent-up lust, all these inexhaustible urges and he’d . . . package them. Make them neat and useful instead of messy and maddening.

When they finally made it to the checkout counter, Clara placed their purchases into designated rows for the manager.

The tall woman with a pink Mohawk totaled them up, including the promised thirty percent discount, and handed over an impressive number of bags. “If you don’t mind me asking, is all this stuff for business or pleasure?”

Clara blushed. “I guess you could say our business is pleasure.”

As soon as they got home, Josh was going to lock himself in his bedroom and journal until his hand fell off.

Chapter nineteen

CLARA HAD INTENTIONALLY put on the least sexy sleepwear she owned in an effort to smother the inferno of her libido. Even though she normally wore cozy, rather than alluring, sleep sets, this evening she’d gone so far as to wear a pair of extra-large men’s pajamas she’d ordered by accident last Christmas. She looked ridiculous, like the ghost of her great-grandfather had spit plaid all over her, but she didn’t care. At least these pj’s didn’t antagonize her carnal thoughts.

For the umpteenth time in the last hour, her eyes jumped from her computer screen on the coffee table to Josh’s closed bedroom door. Behind that thin strip of wood, she knew he was writing X-rated fantasies. All the moisture in her mouth relocated below her waist.

Going to that sex shop was a mistake. Watching Josh select items for their project with authority and expertise fired off a thousand pleasure sensors in her brain. She tugged her top away from her heated skin. Cotton wasn’t as breathable as the manufacturers claimed.

In order to complete her to-do list for the evening, she needed to secure a domain name. Unfortunately, she, Josh, and Naomi still hadn’t agreed on what to call the project. LadyBoners.com and Orgasms4All .org, Josh’s latest suggestions, didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

The man of the hour opened his door. “Hey.” He had a worn black notebook in his hands.

“Hi.” Clara crossed her legs. “How’s it going in there?”

“It’s going all right.” He pointed the open notebook in her direction and fanned through several pages full of his dark, spiky handwriting. “Once I got started it turned out I had a lot to say.”

Clara swallowed hard. “I can imagine.” So many things. A million Josh fantasies played on loop in her mind. She needed some kind of anti-libido medication. Or a therapist. Probably both.

Josh descended onto the sofa beside her. Close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his body. She gritted her teeth to keep from inhaling his scent.

“The trouble is, I can’t tell if any of it is good or if I’m dribbling garbage across the page.”

“Do you want me to take a look?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe I could read it to you?” His voice held a hint of insecurity. “Since it’s supposed to be delivered as narration.” Josh ruffled the fluff of curls in front of his eyes. “Unless that’s weird? Since it’s sexy. I could always call Naomi.”

“No.” She shoved her computer under the coffee table and faced Josh with her legs tucked together in front of her. “I can listen.”

“Oh, okay. Great. So it’s a part of the introductory series. For partners who are getting to know each other sexually and figuring out what works. I thought that rather than diving right in, the woman, the performer in our case, could show her partner how she pleasures herself. Help them get a sense of where she likes to be touched and with how much pressure.”