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Our bodies fit seamlessly, proving he was right and all my worries were in vain. And he controlled every moment of it, even when he was waiting for me to sink down on him. I felt his dominance as much as I felt myself give in.
I don't know if that's the submission Riggs has been talking about, but if it is, I want more of it. Something about letting Riggs be in control feels right.
Maybe I've gone crazy. Perhaps it's his experience that gives him the right to be the one in control. Either way, I want more of him.
I stare at myself harder.
Riggs's voice flares in my head,"Don't ever doubt again how much I want you."
My butterflies take off again, and I take a deep breath, feeling in my heart that we've turned a corner.
Can this be real between us? Can this year-long contract just be a catalyst for our future together?
What am I doing? I need to stop these thoughts.
My face flushes, thinking about what I just did with him—something I thought I would never do with anyone.
I didn't like it.
I loved it.
Every moment of Riggs inside me, holding me close to him, kissing me like I was his possession and he couldn't get enough, was beyond my expectations. I never came close to imagining what he was capable of doing to me or how every sensation in my body would come to life in ways I didn't know were possible.
It has to be real between us.
Or is he like this with everyone?
Is being with me similar to what it's like for him to be with other women?
Muffled voices tear me out of my disturbing thoughts, which is good. I don't need to go down this road.
I leave the bathroom. Two sets of identical outfits are on the bed. One is a size six, and the other is a size eight. Each set is a designer pair of white silk shorts and a thin cashmere sweater. A delicate gold lace bra and matching thong sit next to it.
A pair of flip-flops and a pair of stilettos sit on the bed. A note is next to them.
Pet,
Which one do you think I want you in right now? Choose wisely.
Riggs
I starebetween the note and shoes, my butterflies kicking off in nervousness and anticipation, unable to decide which pair to choose.
Plus, I haven't worn anything luxurious or designer since I left my father's house. Everything I buy is from thrift stores or no-return clearance racks, as I was just trying to survive in L.A.
I drag my fingers over the silk, then the cashmere, and finally the lace. I put on the size eight and leave the other set on the bed.
Which shoes?
More anxiety fills me, but a fire in my core can't be ignored. I reach for the stilettos, feeling ridiculous since we're in his beach house but wanting to feel sexier for him.
I can do this.
I can be better than anyone he's previously been with.
I step into Riggs's huge closet, perfectly organized with a row of designer suits on one side and casual clothes on the other.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror and assess myself, deciding I look hot and the stilettos are a good choice. The material of the shorts and sweater is thin, so the gold shows, but it's the current fashion trend and is meant to display a woman's undergarments and skin. I normally think see-through material looks trashy, but something about this outfit makes me feel sexy and empowered.
