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She nodded but kept her face hidden. If he thought she was freaking out, he’d never agree to train her. And that was the last thing she wanted.
“You’re shaking.”
Was she? Drawing a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves. The whole thing was overwhelming. She had no idea sex could be like that.
Banner wasn’t hers—she knew that—but the bond, the connection they’d just shared was so intense. Though temporary, it felt real.
But it wasn’t real. And that hurt.
And now, after having been orgasmed nearly to death, she was lying naked in a man’s bed—not a boyfriend or even a fuck buddy. Just a random guy she barely knew.
Things weren’t supposed to have gone this far. God, was she really a slut?
No. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in those thoughts. Women had casual sex all the time, right? And her sexuality was her own—sluttiness was a patriarchal construct. There was no shame in being a sexual being.
She wriggled a bit on her stomach to get more comfortable and realized even her limbs ached. There was nothing casual about this casual sex.
Banner moved in beside her. The bed dipped, then a blanket fell around the lower half of her body.
Gently, he stroked her exposed back. “I’m sorry. Maybe I went too far.”
Just his hand, skimming lightly across her skin, grounded her. She exhaled a shaky breath, and the tension drained from her body. A numb haze took over, and she let it. Processing everything right now was making her brain hurt. His hand drifted up, and he petted her hair. Each time his fingers ran across her scalp, she melted further into the mattress.
“Can I see that beautiful face now?” he asked.
His voice interrupted the silence, making her jump. Had she almost been asleep? Shit. She should go home. This experience was weird, and she needed some space.
With a groan, she turned over.
Banner was there, leaning over her, wearing a small smile. “There you are.”
“I should go.” Was that her raspy voice? Just how loudly had he made her scream?
His brow furrowed. “Absolutely not.”
Her eyes finally focused. Why did she feel sweaty, flushed, and as if she’d just run a marathon, yet he looked as though he’d just stepped out of an ad for shaving cream? And he was wearing a shirt and jeans. Didn’t he know it was a crime to hide that chest?
“I bet you couldn’t even stand up right now,” he challenged.
“I’m fine.”
“No.” He frowned.
Ignoring him, she went to sit up. A groan escaped her when her ass rubbed against the sheet.
“Let me get you a drink,” he said, helping her lean against the headboard. “Then stay and watch the rest of the movie with me. After that, if you still want to leave, at least I won’t be worried.”
“The rest of the movie?” she said with a snort. “As if I saw any of it at all!”
He chuckled. “We’ll start it over.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.” It sounded like a warning, even to her. Maybe it was. She’d taken care of herself for years now. Needing a man, smelling like desperation, crying into a pillow after sex . . . That wasn’t her. Even though she was sore all over, exhausted, and feeling a little dirty, she was still an independent woman.
Sighing, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I know you don’t, Trouble. But you’re going to let me anyway.”
And for some reason, she did.
After he fed her, made her drink her weight in water, and snuggled her up to him for the duration of a movie, he reluctantly let her go. The drive home passed in a blur. She desperately needed to talk to Janine, but it was too late to call.
