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“How about a bath?”
“No funny stuff?”
“None, I swear it. I might be raring to go again in fifteen minutes, but I won’t make you sit on my cock. Now, if you just sohappento—”
“Nope. Not gonna happen. I can’t even feel my crotch right now. It’s all burning tingles of the bad, bad girl variety. God forbid I clench anything.”
“That’s just ’cause it misses me already.”
“Dear lord, don’t tell me you’re insatiable.”
“There’s no such thing as beingtooperfect, is there?”
She laughed. “Jackass.”
“I think you may be the only person in my life who could say that and have it sound like a term of endearment. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”
He eased away from the bed, and her smile went along with him.
Love.
It seemed trite to even think it after having sex. A lot of people probably thought they were in love after a good fuck, Valerie knew herself well enough to know the difference between post-coital euphoria and true entanglement.
She did love him and had known that before she’d stepped onto the boat. And maybe that was the biggest problem of all. She’d been at a place in her life where she could keep her emotions uninvolved in sexual encounters because she wasn’t looking for an attachment. But, the thing about love was that it happened whether people wanted it to or not. It was the same kind of magic that made magnets stick and little kids always drip red Popsicle juice onto white shirts.
In the right circumstances, they were unavoidable things.
She’d tried to avoid it, but just like that annoying kid in grade school she always tried to hide from, it found her anyway and wanted to drag her outside to play.
“You’re a monkey wrench, Tim,” she muttered.
“I’m awhat?” he called out from the bathroom.
“Nothing. I’m just talking shit.”
“Does talking shit to a dom usually go the way you expect?”
“You said you were retiring. I can talk all the shit I want.”
“I said I was limiting my performances to private arenas.”
“Timm-y-y-y,” she whined.
He let out a chuckle—a low, warm, sound that seemed to hold some magic that made her nipples tingle and sex clench. “I like it when you call me Timmy.” He turned the water off and poked his head into the bedroom, grinning.
He’s happy. Content.
She’d made him that way and she didn’t think his good mood was entirely due to sex. It was because of what she’d given him—her trust.
Fuck. What am I going to do with him?
“Can you walk, or do I have to carry you?” he asked.
“I’d like it if you carry me,” she said quietly.
“You got it.”
She wasn’t going to do anything with him but wait. She wouldn’t hear anything about that job until Monday or Tuesday at the earliest, and she didn’t want to waste a moment on worrying. He was offering her love, and even if she were only going to be around to feel it for a few days or weeks, she didn’t want to leave it on the table.
For all she knew, she’d never get it from anyone else again.
