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Even if my body was still humming with pleasure from connecting with him, having an orgasm with him.
All the more reason, actually, for the plan, for the distance.
I couldn’t let myself have feelings for him again.
I couldn’t hear him reject me again.
But as I got back to my apartment, a little voice whispered that it was already too late.
I was having feelings.
Hell, if I was being honest with myself, I never stopped having feelings for him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rowe
She’d literally run away from me.
I hadn’t even seen her use her phone, but she’d clearly done so since that was the only reason Malc’s truck pulled into the parking lot of the learning center.
That was how much she didn’t want to be around me.
She called in someone else to take me home.
After she’d had some sort of energy orgasm right on top of me.
I wouldn’t have believed such a thing existed if I hadn’t watched her experience it firsthand. And there was no denying that she’d climaxed. It might have been a while at that point, but I knew when a woman was coming.
What I didn’t expect, though, was the look of complete and utter horror after she realized she’d had an orgasm.
Horror.
This was Billie we were talking about. The woman had no shame in her sex game. I’d heard the woman talk about orgasms at least a hundred times over the years. I couldn’t imagine she ever felt upset or embarrassed by a climax before.
Except with me.
I won’t lie. Whatever high I’d been riding at seeing her come, it was overshadowed by the knife in the gut sensation at knowing she didn’t want that with me.
“You look freaked,” Malc said, lumbering up to me. “Were they all naked?” he asked, wincing.
“What? No. No one was naked.”
“That’s a first,” Malcolm said, shrugging. “Were they chanting and shit?”
“No. They, ah, they were breathing,” I said, shaking my head.
I’d never given much thought to tantric anything before. But after breathing with Billie, and seeing the couples get really fucking into each other with just breath work, I had to admit there was something to it. Apparently, if you got as advanced as Billie, you could come without having any actual physical stimulation.
“Oh, yeah, Billie is a big fan of that. She once told me I was breathing into my chest, not my stomach. Whatever the fuck that means. You ready to head out?” he asked, gesturing toward the truck that suddenly looked very far away.
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering if I would be seeing Billie before bed to help me out of the brace.
Somehow, though, I knew I wouldn’t.
And, as it turned out, I didn’t.
I didn’t see her in the morning, either.
No.
She had Gracie stop by to bring me more tea, help me with the salve, then get my brace on me. At lunchtime, it was Willa. Then around bedtime, it was Hope. Of all people. Looking annoyed and tired.
“What the fuck did you do to Billie that she’s pawning off patient care on us?” Hope asked, ripping at the velcro none too gently. “You realize she lives for this shit, right?” she added, unscrewing the top of the jar of salve. “Me? I have the bedside manner of a feral cat,” she said, giving me a slight self-deprecating smile before moving behind my back.
“Not gonna say I didn’t notice that,” I admitted, wincing a bit as she rubbed the salve in a lot more roughly than was necessary.
“So, the question is, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, shrugging.
“This shit burns,” Hope grumbled, wiping her hand off on her pant leg. “And bullshit. You had to have done something.”
“I didn’t. I went with her to her class because Dezi had to run off on me to do some club shit.”
“Which class?” Hope asked. “Did you mock it? She really doesn’t like when you mock it.”
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Hey, am I really to blame when it is a bunch of people in a room screaming at the top of their lungs like they’re being hacked apart with machetes?”
“Nice visual. And why were they screaming?”
“I don’t know. Screaming yoga or some shit. Letting out your emotions. I like my emotions locked down inside where they belong,” she added, smirking.
I was pretty sure her shrink-like parents wouldn’t agree with that. Renny was the club profiler. And he’d married Mina, who had the same position up at Hailstorm.
“I hear she’s going to start some sort of swearing yoga class. That might be up my alley,” she said, smirking. “But, yeah, I’m not blind, you know.”
“I never said you were.”
“Billie was all over you. Until one day, she wasn’t. And then she was avoiding you. She probably would have kept on doing that, but Malc asked a favor. And none of us can deny him anything since he asks for so little and puts up with so much. But if she suddenly is going back on that… something happened.”
