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Whatever the reason, I had to nip it in the bud. “No. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t control yourself. I want you to be you with me. Whoever that is.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. Despite what it opened myself up to accept from him.

He studied me. “You don’t mean that. It’s not fair to you to have to put up with my worst traits. My temper and impulsiveness.”

I was still baffled about where this was coming from. In my experience, men were only remorseful when they thought they might lose something. Might lose me.

It didn’t make sense that Reeve feared that. Did it?

I sat up straighter, desperate to understand. “Do you think you hurt me today, Reeve? Did you think I’d leave?” The look he gave me said I’d got it right. So I assured him, “I wouldn’t. And the only time I was hurt was when it seemed you might not want me anymore. Everything else you did, I let you do. I wanted you to. I liked it.”

“Emily, you don’t have to say —”

“I know I don’t. I’m being honest here. I liked it. A lot.” How did I not realize that he didn’t get that about me? I thought I’d been so transparent. Apparently not transparent enough.

“I need that from you. I need you to be that way with me.” God, I felt so exposed. But he had to know. “It turned me on, remember? Even just thinking about it now gets me hot.” It wasn’t a lie. I was wet.

He seemed surprised. And suspicious. He pulled the sheet off of me, leaving me naked before him. His attention fell first to my breasts, to the pointed nubs that confirmed my arousal. I spread my legs, inviting him to further verify my claims.

He accepted the invitation, dragging his fingers down the length of my slit, landing at my hole, which was drenched and swollen. His eyes flew back to mine. “You really do belong to me, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes. I really do.”

He stood and quickly dropped his pants before bending one of my legs up to my chest and settling in the apex of my thighs. “Tell me what you liked about it. Tell me which parts.”

His cock hovered at my entrance, the tip throbbing, begging to come in. I bucked my hips, wanting what he held just out of reach.

But he wouldn’t give it. Not yet. “Tell me, Emily.”

I was needy and on fire, ready to say anything to get him where I wanted him, even the truth. “When you came on my tits.”

He drove in with a single deep thrust. “Yes. What else?”

He held himself above me, inside me now, but not moving. I ground up. He remained still, waiting.

“When you smelled me,” I said.

Finally, he withdrew. Slowly. Too slow. “Even when you found out why?”

“Especially then.”

He plunged back in. “What else.”

“When you shoved your cock in my mouth so far I couldn’t breathe.” I spoke quickly now, the words spilling out of my mouth, knowing they were the key to getting what I wanted.

“Yes.” He pulled out then pushed back in. “Good. Good girl.” He circled inside me, and I groaned. “What else?”

“When you said I belonged to you.” It was almost a whisper, coated in lust and raw vulnerability.

“Aw, fuck, Emily.” His tempo was steady now, each stroke hitting me in exactly the right spot. I was sighing, whimpering, greedy beneath him. “You like remembering it, too, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He lowered his upper body on top of mine and braced himself with one elbow on the bed next to my head. With his other hand, he stroked my cheek. Sweetly. Tenderly. “I can tell. You’re so tight around me. You’re almost there, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped. I was so close already, and God did I need it. Needed to feel good for just a minute. Even if it wasn’t going to be the mind-blowing sort of orgasm he usually gave me. Even if it was soft and gentle. Even if the aftermath was filled with a fresh surge of survivor guilt. “Yes,” I said again. “I’m there.”