“But we’re discussing you. And there’s no reason to deny yourself, seeing as how we’re trapped here for the time being.”

“No reason other than your presence.”

“I could turn around.”

Her sex pulsed, liking the idea very much. But that was too wild, too deviant . . . even for her. “I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“But you are here. I can’t forget it. And what you’re asking of me? It’s private.”

“Where is your spirit of adventure? The woman who enjoys taking risks, who wants to be treated equally? You have nothing to fear from me. I won’t touch you. I swear on the deed to the Bronze House.”

“I . . .” The woman in the next room curled forward until the man could suck on a nipple, his feet braced on the floor to give him leverage as he thrust upward. Florence briefly closed her eyes, her body a wire pulled taut. My God, how much more could she take? “This is different. I cannot undo a lifetime that tells me it’s wrong.”

“Then undo who you are.”

“What?”

“Be someone else, if only for a moment. Physical pleasure is not evil. Whoever tells you it is has an interest in keeping you ignorant or chaste. Perhaps both.”

“Who would I be, then, if not myself?”

“Anyone. A hedonistic creature seeking self-fulfillment. A woman I’ve brought here as my guest. A young girl who snuck in to see what all the fuss was about. There’s any number of choices.”

On the other side of the wall the man rearranged the woman on her hands and knees and quickly shed his remaining clothing. Naked, he mounted her from behind. His buttocks clenched as he pushed in and out of her, while her breasts swung with each thrust. It was raw and earthy and utterly mesmerizing. Florence’s body screamed for relief.

Could she do it? Could she pretend to be someone else while easing this insane need? Clay promised not to watch or touch her. What was the harm?

Embarrassment, that’s what.

When she paused, he asked, “What if I do the same but face the other way?”

She bit her lip, nearly moaning at the idea. That would certainly ease her mortification. If they were both pleasuring themselves then she wouldn’t worry about the aftermath. Clay, stroking himself, hand flying over his shaft? Yes, please, yes. God forgive her, but her resistance weakened at the image.

She surrendered. “Turn around.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she waited until he’d angled toward the opposite wall. When all she could see was his back, she said, “You start first.”

He made a strangled noise in his throat. “Fine, but I expect you to soon join me.”

She could see his shoulders shifting as his hands went to his waist. Clothing rustled and after a few seconds he groaned. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “That’s good.”