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“It’s not bullshit,” she replies as my eyes flick upward to hers.
“Then what is it?” I ask desperately. When she doesn’t answer, I get more irritated. “Fuck this.”
I burst up from my seat on the bed and cross the room. “I’m just a client, right? This is your job. I pay you to be here, don’t I? So why does the sight of you with someone else drive me insane?”
“Clay…” she says in a pleading tone.
“It’s all gone to my head, Eden. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand the thought of feeling something for you if you don’t feel it for me.”
When I turn back toward her, she’s there, and it takes me by surprise. Unexpectedly, she places her hands on either side of my face and stares intensely into my eyes.
Suddenly, it feels as if we’re in uncharted territory together.
“Is this okay—”
“Yes,” I snap. “I didn’t mean to use a safe word. You can touch me.”
“But you did use a safe word.”
“That was stupid of me,” I reply, staring at the floor.
“No, it wasn’t. I always want you to use your safe words when you need to. I’m proud of you for saying that.”
My head lifts, and I gaze at her. Why do I have to react this way to her? This strange warmth in my chest from the way she said she was proud of me. I hate myself for how much I need that.
“How are you feeling now?” she asks.
“Green,” I say, my tone like a surrender.
Slowly, she pulls me to the bed again and climbs onto my lap, straddling my hips on either side. My hands glide up her bare legs and around her lower back. As she settles her weight on my thighs, I feel the air leave my lungs. Her fingers slide over my jaw and around to the nape of my neck.
Being this close to her, I get lost in the intensity of her eyes. I want to crawl inside and wrap myself in the comfort of her body. It’s like being drawn to my own death by a siren in the sea.
“I do feel it too, Clay,” she says again, this time in a soft whisper.
“Am I just another client to you?”
She hesitates, staring frantically back and forth between my eyes. “I told you. You’re mine.”
“Who else is yours?” I ask.
Her silent response is a knife to my heart. I don’t want to hear what I know is the truth. Right now, I want to pretend the truth doesn’t exist.
“It doesn’t matter who else is mine,” she says firmly. “When you’re in this room, there’s nothing else that matters. You are mine. You are perfect. You areeverythingto me. And I don’t want to hear another word of insecurity from your mouth.”
Before she can say another word or back away from my embrace, I close the distance, capturing her soft lips with mine.
It’s our first kiss.
And it changes everything.
Our mouths open together, our tongues colliding as we both devour each other in a ravenous kiss.
Her body melts into mine as it grows more and more passionate, as if we’ve broken through this dam and we’re both being dragged under the surface together.
“Yes, Mother,” I drawl into the phone. My feet pound against the treadmill as she carries on, talking about someone I don’t even know from her country club. As if I care.
It’s late. Past ten, but my mother seems to believe I should be available to her at all hours. Burning calories on the treadmill is the only thing that seems to keep me from going crazy when she calls.
