my neighbor, cuddling up on the couch, dancing around my apartment in my pajamas. “Sometimes I think you see the real me.”
“That’s my favorite part.”
I glanced at him through my lashes and smiled. “You’re sweet.”
He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Can I tell you my theory?”
“On?”
“You.”
I stiffened, never one to enjoy being the center of attention, and even less of a fan of being psychoanalyzed by a non-professional. Why couldn’t he just accept me for who I was?
It was an easy request, but even I didn’t accept the real me. I was forever trying to change her or hide parts of her away from others. Maybe he could explain why that was. “Go for it.”
His hands closed around mine. Maybe he feared I’d bolt at the first sound of something I didn’t want to hear.
“I don’t think it’s about control, Avery. I think it’s about feeling needed, necessary. If you set up a deliberate role for yourself, you guarantee that happens. Your role with your clients is the opposite, but specific enough that you can relinquish control. Maybe because you still feel desired. They hired you to fill a need in their lives.
“That’s what it seems to come down to, Avery, feeling needed. The control isn’t always necessary, so long as things stay within certain parameters. You trust me not to take things too far, I think. That’s why your authority slips when you’re with me, because you see how much I want and need you. You only fight for authority when you start to doubt things.”
I could hardly blink let alone form words to respond. What if he was right and all this time I’d been wrong? I felt like an idiot, totally out of touch with myself. I should have spent some of my money on therapy instead. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a head case.
“Sorry if that was too much.”
I shook my head. “I’m just processing.”
“Well, I should also be honest about myself. Since meeting you, I discovered how much I like taking control.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I told you about my ex. She really messed me up. It took a lot of rebounds to get over what she did, and I’m still messed up from it. With you, it’s different. You and I have this gloves-off sort of chemistry where we can just go at each other and be ourselves, whoever we happen to be in that moment. You challenge me to always give you my best. I love being with you. I love trying new things. And I really love when you let me take the lead. You’re so fucking intimidating, but you can be incredibly indulgent at times. I love getting you there, watching you surrender. And if I’m holding the reins, I know exactly where you are, emotionally and physically. It’s so intense. When we’re in sync like that, I feel… I might be holding you in place, but you’re there by choice. It’s so clear in those moments that every part of you is present—with me.”
Control was a drug, and I knew the high he spoke of well. My body responded to his words, my breath turning heavy, and my breasts straining against my bra. “That’s a great feeling.”
“I love it.”
“Me, too.”
If I shifted my legs, arousal would gush to my panties, so I remained perfectly still. I swallowed, unsure of what to do or say.
The first time Noah took control, I saw it as a deliberate betrayal. I specifically told him I needed control, and he usurped it.
But after we slept together and came to an understanding, it was easier to switch back and forth. He no longer stole my authority when it was my turn. But I also enjoyed when it was his turn. Sometimes I forgot who was in charge and just let it happen. No matter what, with Noah, it was always good.
He turned my chin to face him. “You’re not saying anything.”
I didn’t know what to say. My head was spinning. It was getting late, and my brain was on overload.
“Whose lipstick is it?”
He rubbed a hand over his lips. “I ran into an employee of mine, and there was a misunderstanding. I straightened it out.”
“Were you on a date with her?” I couldn’t hide the jealousy or accusation in my voice.
“No. But it’s good to know I’m not the only territorial one.”
There was still the matter of the flower. “The rose wasn’t for her?”
“Avery, the rose was for you. If you don’t