I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at my bedside table.
The book is right there.
Face down. Innocent.
Absolutely not innocent.
I pick it up and flip it open to the page from last night.
The words jump out at me immediately. Not even trying to be subtle.
I sigh. "Okay," I tell the empty room. "Homework."
I stretch out on the bed, propping myself up against the pillows. I read for a bit first - force myself to actually read instead of skim - trying to focus on the characters, the setting, the whole dramatic buildup the author clearly worked very hard on.
It's... effective.
My body reacts before my brain catches up, warmth pooling low in my stomach. I remember what Asher said. About paying attention. About learning what feels good.
"Scientific," I whisper. "This is very scientific."
I close my eyes.
I try to focus inward. Sensations. Reactions. What makes me pause, what makes me want more. I try to stay present, to treat it like a lesson instead of whatever spiral my mind wants to go down.
It works.
For maybe thirty seconds.
Then, completely uninvited, Asher's voice slips in.
Foreplay.
I groan softly and open my eyes. "No," I say out loud. "Not helpful."
I squeeze them shut again and try to redirect. I picture literally anything else. The book characters. A faceless, nameless guy. Someone vague. Generic. Safe.
Except now my brain is being difficult on purpose.
Because suddenly it's not just Asher's voice - it's the way he looked at me like he already knew what I was thinking before I did. The way he said my name like it meant something.
I sit up abruptly, flustered.
"This is ridiculous," I tell myself. "You are alone."
I try again.
Slower this time. Less pressure. I focus on what Asher said about sweet spots - about noticing reactions instead of forcing them. About letting my body lead instead of my head.
Irony at its finest, because my head is the problem.
Every time I get close - every time that tight coil starts to build, and I feel my hand drift down my stomach, there he is again.
His hands clasped behind his back.
You're good at this.
His mouth curving into that knowing smile, those wicked blue eyes on me. Like he's in the room - like he's watching me.
