My chest tightened. “Well. I mean. That wasn’t the agreement.”
“Ah.”
Ah.That was all he said.Ah.My mind rushed to fill the gaps of that syllable, to turn it over as if it were a complicated engineering problem that I needed to find the right angle on. Was it anAh, you’re right, how silly of me? Was it anAh, that’s disappointing, I’d give anything to fuck you again, you glorious goddess? Or maybe anAh, that’s where my socks went.
I snapped the cabinet in front of me shut, and the air brushing across my skin made me aware all over again that I was extremely naked.
Emotionally and physically.
“Would you mind grabbing me some clothes? There should be a robe in the top drawer of my dresser.”
“No problem. Happy to—oh.”
What was it with this guy and single syllables? Had my pussy been so good that it robbed him of the ability to speak, or was he just not at his sharpest in the morning?
Then it hit me.Ohwas notah.Ohtold me exactly what I’d done wrong.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I couldn’t even avoid sex right.
I hadn’t specified that he should look in the topleftdrawer. A fatal error, because the toprightdrawer was one of three dedicated entirely to my collection of sex toys.
Right then, Hudson was likely looking down at my extensive arsenal of “sexual health aids” like it was the friggin’ suitcase inPulp Fiction.
Every inch of me wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment. Which sounds stupid, considering he knew I used them, and we both worked on them. But it was the difference between wearing a bikini on the beach and getting perved on in your bra and underwear through a window: all about context.
A long, low whistle came from the other room. At least he had the decency to sound impressed.
“You are…dedicated to your job.”
“I told you. I’m an expert.”
The sound of his laughter carried through the apartment. I smiled along, trying to slip back into teasing-colleague mode. I could handle that, right?
Nope. Not when, wearing only a pair of gray briefs stained with pre-cum, he emerged from the bedroom holding a robe in one hand and a powder-blue finger vibrator in the other.
I bit back a groan. This had to be a joke. Of all the ones he could have fished out of the drawer, he picked one of my favorites? Impossible.
“Is this one good for beginners? Maybe you could show me.”
He gestured to the vibrator again. It was a small device that had a massaging head attached to a ring, which could be fitted over the finger so the user could easily stroke their clitoris with it. It gave more control than a traditional vibrator and allowed for more rolling movement.
It certainly wasn’t the biggest or flashiest toy in the drawer, and I wondered what had made him pick this one. A raised eyebrow from Hudson quickly turned my wondering into imagining—imagining things I could not allow Hudson to do to me with that vibrator. I’d never be able to pry myself off his dick if he did. Theorgasms last night were bad (read: mind-blowing) enough. I had to draw the line.
“As much as I’m sure your future girlfriends wouldlovethat, we agreed. No practical demonstrations.”
I snapped my robe out of his hand. Time to get dressed. Back to reality.
“Again, I reiterate. Agreements can change.” Easily, he pulled me away from the counter and into him. His erection pressed through his briefs and against my belly. “Ours could change. If you wanted.”
And there it was. Out in the open. He still wanted me. All I had to do was say yes.
Enthusiastic consent. What a concept. If only my heart got the memo.
18
Start the Morning with a Bang
How is it that the things we want the most are the things we’re most afraid of? Of course I wanted to say yes. The sex last night had not just been amazing; it had shifted the ground beneath my feet. For years, I’d seen myself as a defective piece of machinery. But after we tinkered together for a few hours, I realized I was never broken in the first place. I’d just been forgotten up on the shelf, left to rust.
