The thought echoes in my head as I watch him sleeping soundly beside me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. But even when he was using the fake name I gave him, I felt more exposed and seen by him watching me fall apart in his arms. And I know he could see it on my face when I came—because I could see him lose control at the same time, like watching me come undid him.

I never expected this.

This night was supposed to be about escape, about shedding my real life for a few hours of anonymous pleasure. Instead, I found something that feels terrifyingly close to a connection I’m not prepared for.

I don’t know if I was fully conscious of it, but I think some part of me hoped that if we kept talking and fucking, we’d never fall asleep and the night would never end, so I wouldn’t have to leave or go back to Denver. I could just stay here at the club with him forever, like nothing else in the world mattered.

For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t just feel like Coach Dunaway’s daughter. I wasn’t a law student. I was just a woman, being worshipped by the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met.

But now the night is over.

I don’t know what time it is, and it’s not like I can see the sun from this deep inside the kink club, but my body instinctively knows that morning is here. And I’ve been lying in this bed for at least an hour knowing I should reach for my phone to check the time, but there’s not a single part of me that wants to do it.

I don’t want to wake him. Don’t want to have to say goodbye. But there’s a flight I have to be on in a matter of hours, and I still have to get back to the place I’m staying to pack up all my stuff and get to the airport. When I came here earlier in the night, I definitely wasn’t expecting to stay so long. I wasn’t expecting anything at all about tonight.

Especially not the way his touch broke through every wall I’ve ever built around myself.

Grudgingly, and as quietly as I can, I slip out from under his arm and sit up on the edge of the bed. My phone is face down on the nightstand, and with one big breath, I turn it over—and immediately wince. It’s just after 6 a.m., which means I don’t have a lot of time.