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I ponder this the whole way to his penthouse, but when he actually opens the door, my mind goes completely blank.
It must be the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” effect in action because he looks more mouthwateringly hot than I remember—and I have memories I can masturbate to for a year.
“Please come in.” He gestures in the direction of the pond.
I walk in on unsteady legs and plop into the lotus pose by the pond.
He crouches next to me, eyes level with mine. “First, I want to talk about the other day.”
I swallow so loudly they probably hear it on the floor below us. Is he about to tell me he wants to pretend it never happened? Or—
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I misread the situation. I thought you—”
“You didn’t,” I blurt.
“I didn’t?” He tilts his head, perplexed. “I thought you wanted to kiss me, but when I tried, you didn’t like it.”
My face burns. “I did want you to kiss me. I still kind of do. And I didn’t dislike—”
“You pulled away.” His jaw flexes.
I bite my lip. “Wanting and liking wasn’t enough, it seems. I guess I wasn’t quite ready yet. I… have some issues when it comes to intimacy.”
His face darkens, and his power makes the room around us thunderous and gloomy, like a storm is about to hit. “Did someone do something to you?” he asks with soft menace.
“No, no, it’s not that.” Recalling the blank spots when it comes to my childhood, I add, “At least not that I know of. I pulled away for a completely different reason.”
The room goes back to normal as his expression changes to one of curiosity. “Oh?”
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m weird.”
A hint of a smile touches the corners of his eyes. “That implies I don’t already think you’re weird.”
“Forget it.” I start to untangle my legs from the lotus pose.
“I never said weird was bad.” The smile moves down to his lips. “Please, tell me.”
My shoulders hunch. “I’ve… never done that before.”
His eyes widen, the smile disappearing. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”
“Nor done anything else,” I say, Pom turning beet red on my wrist. “Even if it weren’t for my other issue, kissing—or doing anything for the first time—is kind of a big deal.”
He rubs the dimple on his chin. “Other issue?”
I take in a deep breath. “I don’t like germs.”
“Germs?”
“Bacteria, viruses, yeasts. Just name a microscopic creature, and I’m going to be afraid to catch it.”
“And you think I—”
“I’m not saying your germs are worse than those of any other person,” I say quickly. “Or that my fears are one-hundred-percent rational. Though if you read about the microbiome, it is permanently altered with—”
He lifts his hand, stopping me mid-word. “You have the right to feel any way you choose. You also have the right to do or not do things with me.” His face darkens again. “Or anyone else.”
“If I were to do things with someone, it would be you.” This time, Pom turns pink, and I hide the treacherous fur in case Valerian somehow guesses what it means.
He gives me a look of pure male satisfaction. “What if the risk of germs didn’t exist at all?” As he speaks, the living room around us turns into a bedroom I’ve seen via his illusions before, one with a giant bed covered by silk sheets and rose petals.
A second Valerian is sitting on the edge of the bed—this one only wearing a fig leaf over his groin.
I blink rapidly as I take in the illusory Valerian.
Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the sound of my ovaries screaming in joy.
“Come to me,” Illusion Valerian orders gruffly and stands up, giving me a better look at his rippling muscles.
I leap to my feet as he closes the distance between us.
“No germs,” the real Valerian murmurs.
I reach out and touch the naked Illusion Valerian. His chest feels real—and good enough to lick. My gaze shifts between him and the real Valerian. What’s the proper etiquette for this sort of situation?
“Before we do anything,” I say hesitantly, “you should know I’m not a typical virgin.”
Both Valerians arch their eyebrows.
“I’ve done things in the dream world. I’ve even kissed you—well, a version of you—there before. So I have some idea of what to expect.”
“No, you don’t.” Illusion Valerian frames my face with his big hands and kisses me.
Holy hormones. He’s right. This is infinitely better than when I kissed “him” in my dream—and this isn’t even real either.
His tongue tentatively explores my mouth, sending waves of heat throughout my body as his hands stroke down my back. I feel like time stops, like there’s nothing outside the physical sensations, and knowing that this is an illusion allows me to enjoy the pleasure without fear—and get the closest to orgasm I’ve ever been around another person.
