“I don’t know how to talk about them,” he said in a ragged whisper.

Her heart staggered to him. “It can be hard to give voice to certain things.”

When he turned back to her, he parted his lips to speak more.

But she wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for knowing why she’d seen guilt edging in on him. She wasn’t his shrink and she wasn’t his girlfriend, and the more she knew of his inner truths, the more she put her own heart at risk.

Her heart was too fragile. It was made of glass, and could shatter if dropped.

Something else held her back too. She didn’t want to press him to share too much, too soon. Whatever he had to say, he’d say when the time was right for him. She leaned in to him, brushed her lips against his, using closeness as a way to absolve him from speaking. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We don’t have to go there. Besides. I need to leave. I have some early appointments.”

“Okay,” he said, as if it had ten syllables, and they all tumbled awkwardly over his tongue. Then he ran his hand through her hair, and the gesture, maybe even the movement, felt sad. But she tried not to read too much into it; she had to be careful on that account.

The matter was helped by him spinning her around, so her back was flush against the edge of his counter. Like a door closing, and another one opening, he’d erased that momentary anguish, that brief hint of pain. He replaced it with raw heat as his eyes blazed at her.

“I need to give you something for the road. Stay like that,” he said harshly. He walked across his hardwood floors to the bedroom she’d come to know so well in such a short amount of time. He returned with a mischievous grin on his face and his fist closed.

“Another toy surprise?”

He nodded, and uncurled his palm, revealing a small blue vibrator. Slim, with a wide head, this was the kind of vibrator that sent you off into a good night’s sleep. “It’s called The Dream. I want to watch you come one more time before you go,” he said, his eyes dark, his tone that commanding one that thrilled her. Heat scorched a path through her body.

“Do everything I say,” he said, his rough voice hot on her skin.

“I will.”

“Lift your skirt,” he told her, and she did, tugging it up to her hips.

“Pull down your panties,” he said, and she pushed them down to her knees.

“Run your finger through your pussy and let me suck your finger,” he said, and she gasped, but did as instructed, sliding her finger across her wet lips, then bringing it to his mouth. He drew her finger in deeply and sucked hard, making the most satisfied sound. His eyes floated closed as he moaned, like a chef tasting his favorite dish.