Piper snorted. “Rich-girl problems.”
Caroline slapped her friend on the arm. “Not fair! You have no idea how much I wanted out of that house! The rejection was from Harvard, my father’s alma mater. My mother was in as much of a swoon as I was.”
“So you’re telling me it runs in the family, then?”
Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not helping!”
“Oh, I’m so helping. I’m here to shine a light on everything, so you can see what really happened, rather than what your brain is accusing you of doing, and—AND—to find the root of the real issue.”
“And the real issue is what, exactly?”
“In my blessed opinion, you had a breakdown because you liked what happened, and that fucked with your brain. Also, it messed with what you consider normal. In your perfect world, women like you don’t have so-called perversions. Admitting you like something different is the hardest part of all this. I grapple with it all the time, which is why I see Marianne on a regular basis. I, Piper Collins”—she clamped a hand over her heart—“see a therapist about my crushing need to see my husband fuck other women. It turns me on so much I can’t stand it. But I’m getting off track.” She waved a hand in the air. “This is about you. You’re angry at yourself more than you’re guilty. And you’re scared—shit-scared—of doing it again, because secretly you want to, and when you do, you might want to go further next time. Pete sucking your tits would be divine. You can’t wait for his big, fat tongue to lick—”
“Piper! Stop!”
“Don’t Piper stop me,” she clucked. “This is the nitty-gritty whether you like it or not. And can I just say, for the record, that you don’t have a sexually deviant bone in your entire body. You like what you like. Nothing wrong with that, but it scares the crap out of you. That’s ultimately why you can’t face your husband. What Pete did to you was minimal, but you liked it too much. How do you face Jace and tell him that? How do you prevent crushing guilt and a possible breakdown after another event? That’s the issue here. But only you can settle that with yourself. If you can do that, you can keep going. Or next time, your panic attack will last longer, and no one wants that.”
“And how do I settle things with myself? You make it sound so easy, when inside I feel like vomiting again just thinking about it.” Caroline edged onto her side so they could face each other, molding the pillow under her neck for support. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of life.”
“Never say never. You might not be, but what you need is time. Time with your husband and time to sort out your feelings. This concerns Jace as much as it does you. But the best part is, you don’t have to do anything ever again if that’s your choice.” Piper readjusted herself. To a casual observer, they appeared like they were having a sleepover and engaging in girl talk. Too bad the topic wasn’t more fun. “So riddle me this. Was the orgasm really big? Like, bigger than you normally have?”
“Yes.” Caroline paused. “They were great. So what? It was still wrong.”
“They? Go, you.” Piper chuckled. “Wrong for whom? You? American society? The entire world? Who are we aiming the wrongdoing at?”
“Wrong for…Jace?” Caroline said, hesitating for a moment.
“Bingo. You love your husband more than anything, but I’m sorry to tell you, you’re projecting your feelings onto him. He doesn’t feel what you do. If Emma were to have stroked his cock, and he ejaculated, you would’ve been hurt, right?”
“I can’t even let my mind go there.” Caroline grimaced.
“Exactly. But that’s not what he felt when Pete touched you. You need to go home and talk to him, and really listen to how he felt about last night. If he’s fine with it, and has no jealousy whatsoever, then you need to reexamine your own feelings and see if you can separate those two things. They are completely different.”
“Argh, why does this have to be so complicated?” Caroline’s tone was weary.
Piper shrugged. “Because love is complicated. Feelings are complicated. But, honestly, you didn’t murder anyone. You didn’t kill anyone’s dog. In fact, in the scenario you described, everyone got off, so there were four happy, satisfied people last night in the Pleasure Paradise.”
“I wasn’t happy.”
“Three extremely happy people,” Piper amended, “and one woman who was happy for a good twelve seconds, and then plagued by a panic attack and misplaced Southern guilt.”
Caroline started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “You know, I was dreading you coming here. I really didn’t want to face facts. It’s so much easier to keep my head in the sand, and I knew you’d tell me I was acting like a guilty Southern girl, but I have to admit, you’ve really helped me in the short time we’ve been talking.”
“Glad to know eight years of therapy have paid off. Marianne will be thrilled. She accuses me of never listening to her stellar advice, but now I can tell her it seeps in through the seams anyway. You’re not broken, Caroline. No matter what kooky shit turns you on. And your marriage is not in jeopardy. Your husband is at home crying in his cereal that you were unhappy for even half a second. If you never again want to see Emma and Pete—or anyone else—you don’t have to. It’s that easy. But the real issue is you want to, so you’re going to have to figure it out. Come to terms with it somehow. When you’re really free of guilt, you’ll know. And as your newly appointed sexual adviser, I’m not letting you do anything without running it by me first. That is, until you pass my super-hard sex-ready test.”
“And what does your sex-ready test consist of?”
“You have to get totally naked and stand in front of me with your arms spread wide, while repeating, ‘I like kinky sex, and I don’t care what the world thinks,’ over and over again until I tell you to stop or your arms fall off, whichever comes first.”
Caroline snorted. “Well, then, I’ll never be sex ready.”
“Never say never.”
22
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When Caroline’s car pulled into the garage around noon, Jace was out the back door before she could get the key out of the ignition. He was still in his pajama pants, hair uncombed, and stubble covering his face. But it didn’t matter. She’d finally texted him about an hour or so ago and told him she was ready to talk and was on her way home.
He’d been filled with so much relief, he’d had to sit down on the couch to catch his breath.
He opened the driver’s door, and she went willingly into his arms, which was the best scenario he could’ve hoped for. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her hair, stroking her back. “It’s never going to happen again. I’m perfectly happy to just do our thing. I love you, Care. None of this is worth risking you or our life together.”
She eased back, her hands braced on his forearms. “I love you, too. And it’s okay. I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m so sorry for everything, especially leaving without telling you. That was so wrong of me.”
“It was fine.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she insisted. “But the only excuse I have to give you is that I was having what Piper deemed a mini-breakdown. I just…I just couldn’t breathe in our house. I needed to think and I couldn’t do it here.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” Caroline reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face and caressed it. “I wasn’t mentally prepared for what we did—and I have no idea if I ever will be. I’m not sure.”
“That’s totally fine.” He tucked her into his side as he guided her to their home, relief filling him for the first time since they’d left the Slaters’. “I don’t care about any of it, and no matter what you say, I’m taking full responsibly for forcing the issue. I thought I was ultimately doing it for you, but in the end, it really was for me. I thought it was hot, and I’m so sorry.”