Page 74 of She’s Worth the Risk

The realization hits just as Zinnia cries out, clenching tight around my dick in release, and my orgasm rushes at me hard and fast. A guttural moan tears from me as I spill into her, hips jerking, pleasure washing through me so intensely I lose track of time and space.

When I finally blink back to reality, Zinnia is staring at me in awe in the mirror. “That was amazing,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “You’re amazing.”

Self-consciousness presses in suddenly, suffocating and unwelcome, and I issue an uncomfortable laugh, drawing away to get her a washcloth.

“No.” She rolls onto her back, grabbing my hand before I can rise. “No pulling away. No walls up. Look.” Her other hand trails down her stomach, between her thighs. “Look at the beautiful mess you made in me.”

I hesitate, heat searing my cheeks, even as the sudden reticence confuses me. A minute ago I was fucking her for dear life, and now I’m too embarrassed to look between her legs?

But she releases my hand, grabbing hold of my jaw, forcing my gaze down. She spreads herself, letting my cum ooze out of her pink slit. I watch as she smears it on the inside of her thighs, painting herself with my seed, and my flagging dick stirs to life again.

“See? It’s a masterpiece.” She grins up at me. “Jackson Pollock would be proud.”

A surprised laugh bursts from my chest, any embarrassment melting away. I run my eyes over her, naked and spread out on my rug, face flushed with satisfaction, eyes hazy.

This woman… God. She’s so funny. So clever. And she gets me in a way no one ever has. From the moment we met, she awoke something in me, reconnected me with who I am deep inside, the man I’ve tried to contain, the man I’ve turned away from time and time again. Tonight, I finally felt the power he holds. Power she helped me see. The power in who he could be—who he is—when he lets himself. I’m so fucking grateful to her for this gift, but I don’t know how to say it.

All I know is this: I cannot go back to who I was before tonight.

“Come here,” she says, reaching for me.

She doesn’t have to ask twice. I crawl over her, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss as her arms twine around my neck.

“I told you it’s not too much,” she whispers, fingers stroking my jaw. “You could never be too much for me, Nick.”

We part to gaze at each other, emotion tightening my throat. She doesn’t look away, and having her here, steady and unwavering, makes my heart fill my chest. The moment stretches out between us, the air growing thick, so many thoughts racing through my head. So many words I can’t bring myself to say.

In true Zinnia fashion, she seems to know when to lighten the mood. Her mouth kicks up on one side, and she releases a light laugh.

“Keep fucking me like that,” she says wryly, “and I might never leave.”

This time I have to look away.

Because what she doesn’t realize is, that’s exactly what I want.

29

ZINNIA

Nick and I basically spend the next two weeks in bed. He goes to campus twice, I check in with Gran every few days, and we go to life-drawing class as expected, but other than that, we barely leave his apartment.

And it’s heaven.

When we’re not having sex in Nick’s bed—or sofa, or shower, or kitchen counter—we’re eating takeout and watching documentaries, or talking about art, about the city, about life.

He tells me about his own trips to Italy, about childhood trips to Maine where his brother taught him how to fish. I tell him about the jobs I’ve had over the years, the places I lived growing up. The ones I can remember, at least.

He sketches me while I nap, then shows me his beautiful drawings when I wake. When he’s not doing that, he’s working on his syllabus for the upcoming semester, and I find myself wishing desperately that I could take his class again for the first time. Even more so as I watch him annotate his notes shirtless, in sweats.

Fuck me.

While he works, I read his art books, poring over chapters on everything from Byzantine art to surrealism. With each book I read, I ache to learn more.

And all the while, we’re aware of the growing question between us: when I’m leaving town.

If I’m leaving town.

I’m still unsure about taking that fall class. Clearly, I didn’t think it through when I enrolled and then hooked up with Nick. If I did stick around, how would that even work, dating a professor on campus? Can you do that?