When he pulled away, his face was clouded with a feeling I knew all too well. Shame. I had suffered bouts of it after both of my divorces, feeling like something was wrong with me. That I was defective. I could see the same self-loathing in his eyes right now. I couldn’t let him feel that way. Not about this. Not about me. Not about us.

Before he could get away, I dug my fingers into his hair and kissed him. Then I rolled him, so he was on the bottom and I was on top.

“What if you just relax and I do all the heavy lifting?” I asked.

He looked uncertain but his gaze was all heat. “Well, I can’t argue with the view.”

There was something incredibly powerful about being the one in control, much like he had been with me before, and I reveled in it. I splayed my hands on his chest and I made love to him as sweetly and as gently as I could until I noticed a sheen of sweat on his brow and his teeth were gritted.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked.

“Like I’m about to die the sweetest of deaths,” he said. “Totally worth it.”

He sat up and pulled me in tight, then he put one hand on my lower back while the other slipped in between us and with his thumb he caressed me in an insistent circular motion that made everything zero in on that pressure point. I lost my sense of rhythm, my powers of speech, and my balance.

Nick took full advantage and lowered me to the bed, regaining the top position. He took over, lifting one of my legs and pushing in deeper and deeper still. In a matter of thrusts, we were both lost to the bliss that rocked through us from the place where we were joined. Like a shout into the void, it echoed on and on and on.

Nick rolled onto his side and pulled me up against him, locking me in place with his arms, while he placed kisses on my hair. This time, I was certain I would never be able to string a full sentence together again. Neither of us spoke for a long while.

“So that’s a yes,” he said.

“Yes, what?” I murmured, still wrecked.

“The evidence clearly suggests an orgasm can make you stupid as fuck,” he said. He ran a hand over his face. “What’s my name? Where do I live?”

I laughed out loud, delighted that he felt the same way I did. He laughed, too, and in that moment I felt as if we’d achieved a perfect connection. Impulsive and reckless, I might be, but I believed he was worth it.

19

He didn’t spend the night. I was all right with that. Tonight had taken an unexpected turn, and I knew we were both processing.