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All at once she clamps down tight, her face going dark red before she explodes. A million muscles flutter around me, milking me, and there’s nothing I can do but bury myself deep one last time and let go.

The rush is unreal, snapping my head back, making me cry out as helplessly as she does while my balls empty. There is nothing like the feeling of being locked with her, that moment where we’re both vulnerable. I don’t do vulnerability, yet here I am, trembling as I pull back and regretfully leave her.

She hasn’t said a word. I’m not sure what to think of that. “Are you all right?” I murmur, getting off the bed, looking down at the mess I made of her. Splayed out, legs still spread, her body heaving with every shuddering breath she draws.

For once, she’s speechless, settling for a firm nod while she tries to catch her breath. After washing myself up in the bathroom, I take a warm washcloth out to her and clean her gently, carefully, almost reverently.

“That was . . .” Again, she can’t find the words. Without responding, I lean over her, untying the ropes around her wrists. Her arms drop limply onto the bed as she lets out a sigh of relief.

Next comes the blindfold, which I slowly lift over her head. She squints hard before blinking rapidly, then slowly opens her eyes to find me watching her closely.

Damn it, those eyes. Eyes that pull me in, eyes now full of understanding they couldn’t hold before. She’s different now, thanks to me. And she knows it.

What I couldn’t have guessed is the heat that stirs in my chest, the longing to lie down with her and take her in my arms. Her breath is still short, little bursts of warmth that hit my face and make me consider for one dizzying moment leaning down to capture her mouth with mine.

So close. It wouldn’t have to mean anything . . .

Her eyelids flutter in surprise when I pull back. “There you go,” I announce with a grin. “Now you know how it feels. I expect you to dedicate your next book to me.”

All she can do is offer a weak smile, still lost in whatever feelings she has in the afterglow of those orgasms. She can feel whatever she wants, so long as she remembers—the way I need to—that this is all business and nothing more. Ever.

Chapter Eleven

June

I’m a quirky person. I know this. It’s not like I try to be. No, I try my best not to be. I’m just the kind of girl who attracts accidents and embarrassment. I’m basically a magnet for them.

But I’ve never felt more awkward than I do today.

So this is what exists on the other side of saying fuck it and letting my body take charge for once, huh? This is the awkward day-after situation. Funny, but I’ve never written about this in any of my books. I mean, who wants to read about it? Elevated reality. Isn’t that what Adrian and I talked about?

There’s nothing elevated about this. Looking at him while he works, knowing he has to remember every detail of what we did together. What he did to me.

“You can stop staring at me,” he murmurs without taking his eyes away from his laptop. He can even talk while he’s typing, something I’ve never gotten the hang of. I mean, I can type and talk all I want, but that doesn’t mean any of it will be coherent.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, then why does it feel like there’s a hole burning its way through my skull?” Usually there’s at least a little life in his voice when he says something sarcastic like that. Right now he’s flat. Distracted? Or full of regret?

One thing is for sure: I have enough self-respect not to come out and ask. Either that or I’m a coward. One or the other. In the end, it doesn’t make a difference. I can’t bring myself to ask as I fix a quick breakfast of eggs and toast, which he eats while hardly looking at the plate.

“I could’ve put anything in front of you and you would’ve eaten it,” I muse as I sit across from him at the table.

“I guess it’s a good thing I trust you.”

Okay, then. He doesn’t feel like banter today.

He does, however, finally pry his attention from whatever he’s doing long enough to flash a brief smile. “How are you feeling today? Is everything all right?”

That’s a good sign. He actually cares whether I’m doing all right. Great, but don’t go and fall in love with him just because he’s being barely decent. I was the one who said no feelings, right?

“I’m doing fine. A little sore, but not so sore that I haven’t already thought about the next scene I want to play out.” I woke up thinking about it, in fact. I have a list in my head by now.

“Are you all right?” I ask, since I kind of need his participation too. What if he has regrets now? What if he took my virginity and now he’s not interested anymore? What if I wasn’t very good?

“Fine. Just busy today.” Before he turns his attention back to the laptop, though, he adds, “It has nothing to do with you.”

“I wish you sounded like you meant it.”