Page 72 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“In museums,” she said. “Marble statues. Very impressive. Much more proportionate.”

I laughed. She was embarrassed and defiant all at once, like she couldn’t decide which she wanted to be. I pushed off the doorframe and pulled out the chair across from her.

“You left,” I said.

“I woke up.” She reached for her coffee and held it with both hands. “Not the same thing.”

“You could have woken me.”

She gave me a look over the rim of her mug. “You were sleeping. I have a feeling that’s not something you do often.”

“I wouldn’t have minded you waking me up. In fact, you did wake me up.”

“I did?”

“I had the most erotic dream. And when I woke up, I had this.” I gestured toward my crotch.

She laughed. “I’m going to venture to guess it’s not the first time that has greeted you upon awakening.”

“It’s the first time you were the star of the show. Come back to bed. Let me show you what I did to you in my dream.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or won’t?”

“Same thing.”

“Not even a little.”

“Last night was incredible,” she said. “No regrets.”

I could tell by her hesitation there was a lot more she wasn’t saying.

“Last night wasn’t enough,” I said.

She looked at me and almost looked sad. “It was almost too much.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Not like that. It was just… too much.”

My ego did not need that. The satisfaction that moved through me was so thorough and so immediate that I had to work to keep my expression neutral. I wanted to hop up, put my hands behind my back, and strut around like a fucking peacock.

“Come back to bed and I will make sure it’s way too much. You won’t be walking right. Your legs will be like limp noodles. You’ll be so sated⁠—”

“Cash.”

“It’s early. We’ve got nowhere to be. We have this amazing suite and privacy. Two more beds to christen. Several more bathroom counters.”

“Cash.” Firmer this time. She set her coffee down. “We need to talk.”

Those four words. I’d never had cause to fear them before. I was always the one walking away before a conversation could turn into that particular four-word sentence. And now they were directed at me.

It was uncomfortable. It made me feel twitchy.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s talk, but last chance to talk with me buried inside you.”

She licked her lips and her cheeks flushed. She could pretend she wasn’t affected by my words but she was. She wanted me. We just needed to get through this little conversation. “Last night was what it was. And I don’t regret it. I want to be clear about that.”