I TURNED ON my side, gathering her close, holding her against me. She adjusted herself slightly, snuggling against me as if that was her rightful place.
The intensity of the orgasm that had gripped me was still pulsing hard in my head, pleasure making me shudder.
She was so warm. She felt so good.
She loves you.
I closed my eyes in the darkness, keeping her close, listening to her breathing begin to slow, become regular. Her body relaxed, as if finally letting go of something, and I knew she’d fallen asleep.
I was pretty sure she hadn’t meant me to hear what she’d whispered as the climax had hit. Perhaps she’d thought I wouldn’t notice, being too occupied with my own intense orgasm. But of course I’d noticed. I noticed everything about her.
She loved me.
It wasn’t a shock. She’d as good as admitted it earlier, but I hadn’t thought about it. Deliberately hadn’t thought about it. Because complicated was exactly what I didn’t want and her feelings for me were the ultimate complication.
That was why I had sex with strangers. Why I paid for it. Why I left my money on the nightstand and walked away. There were no feelings with strangers. No complications.
But, also, not as much pleasure.
I didn’t want that thought. I didn’t want the words she’d whispered to me, either, but they echoed in my head. And there was a part of me that wanted to let her go and walk away, walk straight out of that fucking door. Never see her again.
But I couldn’t bear the thought. She didn’t deserve it and I wasn’t that much of a fucking coward. I cared about her. That was the issue. And no amount of telling myself that I didn’t give a shit made the slightest bit of difference to what was in my heart.
I cared about her feelings, and what she thought, and what happened to her.
It was a goddamned mess.
I wasn’t going to sleep so I waited a time, enjoying the feeling of her in my arms, and then I gently eased away from her, getting out of bed and moving out into the living area.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing. My body was moving on autopilot, reflexively putting the plates from our snack onto the hotel trolley, along with the half-drunk wine. The blindfold lay on the floor near the couch.
Picking it up, I turned it over in my hands, the fabric soft against my fingertips.
I’d already booked in another meeting with a Strangers employee, same time next week. And this blindfold would be for her.
Except...
Discomfort twisted in my gut, and it took me a little while to realise that the discomfort was reluctance. That I wasn’t happy with the thought of another woman putting it on. Another woman sitting in that chair. Another woman following my orders and loving everything I did to her...
No, it wasn’t just reluctance. The thought left me cold. Absolutely fucking cold.
You don’t want another woman.
I found myself looking towards the bedroom, where Vesta was all curled up, naked and beautiful and so heartbreakingly desirable I could feel myself getting hard yet again just thinking about her.
No, of course I didn’t want another woman. I wanted her.
I wanted her to be here next Friday. And maybe the Friday after that too, and maybe for the next month of Fridays. Just her. Only her. I wouldn’t even have bothered to second-guess myself if it hadn’t been for those soft words whispered to me before she’d fallen asleep in my arms.
I love you.
This wasn’t just another Friday for her. It wasn’t just a night of great sex. It was her fantasy—I was her fantasy. She’d saved herself for me. She loved me, but she wasn’t going to demand anything of me. I knew that already. Knew that when tomorrow came, and I said goodbye to her, she wouldn’t protest. She’d turn away and walk out of that door because she wouldn’t want to put any expectations on me, not like my parents had.
But that just seemed...wrong.
Vesta had been denied the things she’d wanted all her goddamned life, by her parents and to some extent Traj. But being denied had never stopped her from fighting for her dreams. From going out there and getting them for herself. That college degree and her business, for example. She was a fighter—that was true.
But why should she have to fight for this when I could simply give it to her?
I could tell her that I wanted more, that one night wasn’t enough. That maybe we should try another night, or maybe more. Maybe we should go out on a date or two. Or maybe even three. See how it went.
Would that make her happy?
You know what she really wants.
I turned away from the bedroom abruptly, striding to the bathroom. I flicked on the shower and, not bothering to wait for it to heat, stepped under the water.
It was cold, icy on the parts of my skin that still had sensation, but I didn’t shiver.
Love. That was what she wanted. That was all Vesta had ever wanted.
But love was demanding. It was pressure. It was injuring yourself and not saying a thing because you didn’t want to disappoint your parents. It was playing on that same knee for years, ignoring the pain because things had gone too far now, and two people’s entire future rested on you and your ability to play some goddamned game well.
It was going into a burning building and rescuing someone, and then being left to agony in a hospital bed, because even though you’d saved their life they still felt you’d failed them in some way.
Yeah, love was a burn that never healed, no matter how many times you grafted new skin over it, and I wasn’t doing that again. Never fucking ever.
So, no. I couldn’t give her that.
But I could give her great sex and company. I could give her some smiles. I could make her laugh. I could...help her.
That would be enough, surely?
It won’t be. You know that.
But I shoved the thought away as I headed back to the bedroom, getting into bed with her again and gathering her close, pressing my face to the back of her neck. Inhaling the scent of musk and candy floss and Vee.
It would be enough.
It would have to be.