Shouldn't send a curl of warmth through my chest.
But it does.
And I hate that it does.
He turns on the vibrator and it hums to life.
The sound is quiet, barely audible, not the loud buzzing I was expecting.
Almost gentle.
"Three settings," he explains, showing me the small button at the base. "Low, medium, high. We'll start with the lowest. Don't want to overwhelm you."
He looks at me, waiting. "Lie back."
I do, my movements stiff and awkward.
The silk of my pajamas and robe whispers as I shift back on the bed, settling against the pillows.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, feel it in my throat, pulsing in my wrists.
Vaughn sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch me.
Just sitting there with the vibrator in his hand, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin feel too tight.
"Close your eyes," he says softly.
"Why?"
"Because you're thinking too much. Analyzing. Worrying about whether this is right or wrong, whether you should be doing this, what it means. I want you to stop thinking and just feel. Can you do that for me?"
I close my eyes.
Immediately the world narrows.
All I can hear is my own breathing, too fast.
The quiet hum of the vibrator.
The rustle of fabric as he shifts slightly.
"Good," he murmurs. "Now breathe. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady."
I try.
In through my nose.
Out through my mouth.
My hands are clenched in the duvet.
I force them to relax.
"I'm going to touch you now," Vaughn says, his voice low and soothing. "Over your clothes. Nothing direct. Just the vibration. Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable or if you want me to stop."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Then I feel it.
