of what she and Logan had shared but because of how she’d reacted to it mentally, emotionally. How could she possibly explain what it felt like to be overcome by endorphins, lost inside her own head, in a place so pleasurable she wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted to come back?
“You’re understanding it better, aren’t you?” Noelle asked, more softly. “How complex the whole BDSM dynamic is.”
“It’s complicated. Yes.”
“And?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I’m not sure I wanted to know.”
“Why?” Eden asked. “Did it hurt?”
Noelle and Jennifer both glowered at her.
“What?” Eden held up her hands.
“Of course it hurt,” Jennifer said.
“Okay. So you hated it, right?” Eden pressed.
“No.” She’d loved it. Wanted it. Craved it.
“Ha!” Ava exclaimed.
“Ha?”
“I think you like this Logan guy,” Morgan said.
“Master Logan,” Jennifer corrected automatically, hearing his voice in her ear. A light shiver traced through her veins.
“So that’s how it is.” Morgan reached for a tortilla chip. “Noelle said she’d call him Master Logan if he had a paddle in his hand.” She gave a little shiver.
“You’ve got it bad,” Ava said, and there was some sympathy in her tone.
Jennifer knew her friend was right. Problem was, he obviously didn’t return the feelings. With a wince, she realized what it was like to be the person on the other side of the ‘in love’ equation.
Even though she spent the next hour chatting with her friends, Jennifer’s heart wasn’t in it and she had a difficult time paying attention.
Ava said she’d found out that the guy with the tattoo had a boyfriend.
“Better you found out now,” Morgan said, raising her almost empty glass.
As they walked outside, Noelle took her aside and squeezed her arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow so we can have a more private conversation,” Noelle promised. “That is, if you’re ready to talk.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a busy day.” Jennifer smiled, hoping to take any sting from the words.
Noelle pulled back, but she nodded as if understanding. “If you change your mind, call me.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure she was interested in talking about her experiences with anyone, even the one person who might understand what she was going through.
“I can’t stand to see you like this. I feel responsible.”
“This is all on me,” she said. “I made my choices. I don’t regret a single one of them.”
“Tell me you’re okay.”
“I will be,” Jennifer replied, hoping Noelle couldn’t hear the lie. “I promise.”
Because she had no plans for the upcoming weekend and she needed to keep herself busy so she didn’t slowly go out of her mind, Jennifer stopped at the hardware store on the way home. She selected a gallon of paint for the guest room, a couple for the kitchen and she found a clerk to help her select an air sprayer. Even that conjured images of Logan. Master Logan.
After taping a few walls in preparation for the weekend, she went to bed early, slept badly, then dragged all the way through work for the rest of the week. Then, annoyed that she was feeling sorry for herself, she turned off her phone when she got home on Friday evening.
She rewatched the videos on how to use the power tool and followed the clerk’s instructions before painting the guest room. It took her less than half the time that it had taken her to do the bathroom.
On Saturday morning, she got up and began taping off the kitchen cabinets and moving out the table in preparation for the primer. It was going to take a lot to transform canary yellow to soft sage.
By Saturday night, she was exhausted and every muscle ached. She drowned her thoughts by listening to music so loud that knickknacks danced in the curio cabinet.
She was only marginally successful in blocking out thoughts of Master Logan.
But once she drew her bath, her efforts collapsed into failure. As she sank in and the hot water soothed her muscles, she began to relax, and that wasn’t good. A restless hunger consumed her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about sex.
As usual, the harder she tried to shove thoughts away, the bigger they became.
Her clit throbbed, and she wanted an orgasm.
She told herself it couldn’t hurt to masturbate. She didn’t owe him anything. They’d shared a weekend, a number of great scenes, hot sex and he’d helped her explore her boundaries. Despite his pretty words, they didn’t have a relationship. Other than him taking her phone number, there were no future plans.
Jennifer trailed her fingers down her breastbone, then cupped each breast in turn. She gently tugged on