My eyes flood with heat.
It’s been longer than since my last boyfriend that I felt this cared for.
My body slowly comes back to earth and melts into a puddle of boneless satisfaction.
Davis props his chin on my lower belly, and when I finally open my eyes, he’s watching me.
What do you say in a moment like this?
Thank you?
That seems insufficient.
But as my body melts, my brain is melting too.
My breath slowing.
My eyelids drooping.
Crap. Crap crap crap.
I masturbate to fall asleep.
I’ve trained myself for this.
A hint of a smile touches his lips.
I think.
Everything’s getting blurry.
“Sleep tight, Sloane. You’re safe here.”
Did he drug my orgasm?
Wait.
That’s not possible.
Is it?
I don’t answer myself.
Because I’m doing what I’ve trained myself to do, and I’m falling fast, fast asleep.
17
Davis
Sunlight is peekingthrough the metal blinds on the small windows in the bedroom of my camper when I pull myself out of a deep slumber.
There’s cold, wet drool on my arm and the scent of cinnamon tickling my nose.
Cinnamon.
Sloane smells like cinnamon, but more.
Like a chai latte.
