the fabric of my gown. The intense pleasure of it sends me arching up off the bed.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes hot and possessive and strangely wild. “You’re the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you letting go for me. I always knew this fire was inside you.” He leans over to take my other nipple in his mouth and gives it the same treatment.
“Oh God,” I mumble as he suckles this breast even longer and more skillfully than the first. “Oh, Damian. Oh please. Oh please. Oh please!”
I’m not sure why it happens just then, but I suddenly hear myself. See myself. As if I’ve left my body and am looking down.
It’s so clear to me just now what I’m doing. How I must sound and look. I’m a writhing, babbling mess of need and arousal. I’m begging and pleading without any sense or reason. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That much has always been clear.
And I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. I’m just reaching out blindly. Clutching at what I think I might want.
It’s not me. I don’t like it. I’m more out of control than I’ve ever been, and I’ve spent my life making sure I never end up in that position.
I’m not going to start now. Not for a man who’ll be in and out of my life. Who has been clear about doing nothing more than offering me one of the “perks” I’ve already paid for.
I refuse to be the only one out of control right now.
Or ever.
It’s one thing to let go in the shower by myself, thinking about him. I’m in control of that.
I’m not in control of this.
I gasp out, “No! Damian, wait!”
He freezes for a few seconds, and then he slowly withdraws, sitting up again on the edge of the bed. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair is a mess. “What’s the matter?” he asks with gravel in his voice.
It takes every sliver of willpower I possess to push myself up off the bed and stand up. “I... don’t want to do that.”
“What do you mean? We were...” He stands up too, rubbing his face with both hands like he’s trying to wake himself up. “You seemed like you were enjoying it.”
“I was. I mean, in a way. But I don’t want... That’s not what I want.” It’s not entirely true, but it’s partly true—and it’s the only thing I can think of to say.
“Okay.”
“I told you before that I didn’t want things to get messy. You shouldn’t try to push me into—”
“Now wait just a minute,” he cuts in, cool and brusque. “I never pressured you into doing anything you didn’t want. I never would have pressured you. You were liking what we were just doing. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t want it.”
He’s angry with me. I think. It’s so hard to tell with someone as contained as Damian. It makes me feel guilty, and that upsets me even more. “I’m not saying that. But I was confused, and now I’m not confused. I don’t want that. Maybe it’s a perk of our arrangement, but it’s not a perk I want.”
“Okay.” The fire and the warmth and the humor have all vanished from his eyes. It feels like grief that they’re gone. “That’s fine. All you have to say is no. I’ll never pressure you. I really thought you wanted m— wanted it.”
“I... did. But now I don’t.” I’m about to lose it. Even more than I’ve already lost it. And I simply can’t do so in front of Damian. “I’m going to take a shower now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Neither one of us moves for a moment. We’re both breathing so raggedly that I can hear it in the otherwise silent room.
Then I make an embarrassing whimpering sound, turn on my heel, and hurry into the bathroom.
I’m only safe after I close and lock the door.
THE REST OF THE DAY isn’t as terrible as I imagined.
Things are kind of tense and awkward between Damian and me as we go to church with my mother and Pop and then go out for a light lunch afterward. We’re civil to each other, however, and we don’t discuss what occurred that morning.
Part of me wants to. I’m not normally the kind of person to let things go unsaid. I’ve never found that it’s worth the effort of keeping words to myself that want to be spoken. But I’ve also spent most of my life avoiding any