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Our mouths moved together eagerly. Tongues brushing, breath mingling. When she drew back, we were both panting.
“We need boundaries,” I said. “Rules. I can’t hurt you.”
“What kind of rules?”
I rested my chin on her head, looking out the kitchen window into the dark.
“We need to keep this separate from the rest of our lives. I won’t fuck you here in this house,” I said. “I’ll take you somewhere.”
“Alright, that makes sense.”
“And I don’t want anyone to know, I don’t want this to ruin your reputation. Not Candice, Yale, or Caden. And absolutely not Daphne or Ophelia.”
“I agree.”
“Or Osian.”
She drew back, her brows creasing. “He’s going to know someone slept with me eventually.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Also, in the spirit of total honesty, I’ve told my therapist about what happened at the lodge. And the rest of it.”
Her lids flickered. “The rest of it?”
“That you asked me to have sex with you.”
“Oh. What did she say?”
“She said…there was a high chance that you would end up hurt if I slept with you,” I admitted. “She doesn’t think either of us can do this without getting attached to each other.”
“We’re already attached to each other, just not like that. I think we’re safer the way we are than if we weren’t friends. I mean, look at us talking through this like adults.”
“We are adults.” I studied her skeptically. “And I always talk through things before I have sex with anyone.”
“Does that ever put a damper on things?”
“No, I need to know where I stand with people. Especially strangers.”
She started chewing the inside of her mouth again. I brushed the backs of my fingers over her chin and her eyes flicked to mine. A bolt of pure electricity heated the space between us.
“Do you know where you stand with me?” she breathed.
“I like to think I do.”
“You are the most careful man I’ve ever met.”
I laughed and stepped back. “Thank you. I think.”
It was very late, but neither of us were tired. I made another pot of coffee—decaf this time—and went to the living room. She stayed in the kitchen for a moment longer and appeared with her evening bowl of ice cream drenched in chocolate syrup.
I stretched out in my chair and she hesitated a few feet away. Her eyes lingered on me, but she didn’t get any closer. Her knuckles were white around her bowl.
My chest ached. She wanted something, but she was afraid to ask for it.
“Clara,” I said. “What is it?”
“May…may I sit with you?”
I glanced down at the chair. There was really only room for one person. Then it hit me and I melted and held out my arm. Her shoulders sagged with relief and she was by my side in a second, climbing carefully into my lap.
