16. Sixteen

Sixteen

T he world seems different when I open my eyes the next morning, and it takes me a few seconds to realise why. I'm upside down, facing the headboard. I prop myself up on my elbows and glance around the room, getting my bearings. A pair of handcuffs on the parquet floor beside the bed catches my eye, and my mind shuffles through the events of last night. The party. Aisling. The sex … the SEX.

I look at Art, stretched out on the bed beside me, sleeping soundly. Dark lashes frame his cheekbones, and he looks totally peaceful. A world away from the cold, detached man from last night.

I climb out from under the covers and head into the en suite and take a shower. When I return to the bedroom, the bed has been made, and the sound of the shower running is coming from the main bathroom across the hall .

I head to the walk-in wardrobe, pull on my underwear, and slip on a black pencil skirt and cream blouse. Then, I walk into the bedroom and start towel-drying my hair.

"Hey." Art stands in the doorway. A grey towel is wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water glisten across the tops of his shoulders, and his wet hair is sticking up all over the place.

He looks completely shaggable. I feel a flutter between my thighs at the sight of him.

"Hey." I smile.

Concerned eyes search my face as he walks up to me. "Are you okay … after last night?"

I drop the towel on the bed and run my fingers through my hair, untangling it. "Yes. Why?"

"I wanted to speak to you about it afterwards, but you were so tired, so I let you sleep."

"You wore me out … it was intense." I give him a reassuring smile, but he still looks worried. "And you were right. You were a bastard," I joke.

But he's not amused.

"I don't like being that person anymore. I found it especially difficult to be like that with you." He rests his hands on my shoulders. "If anything, last night just made me realise how much I've changed."

"I didn't think you'd be the one to use the safe word."

He frowns and shakes his head at the memory, like he surprised himself.

"Is that the first time you've ever used it?"

He cups my cheek with his hand. "Yes. I couldn't watch you do what I'd asked. I wouldn't have been able to take it. I needed you."

I link my fingers around his wrist and feel his rapid pulse. "And I needed you."

A sliver of a smile inches across his lips, and he seems a little reassured. "How did you find what we did? "

He's been honest with me. Done what I asked. Given me a window into his past and the man he used to be.

I need to be honest with him. "It was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever experienced."

"You enjoyed it."

I smile. "I thought you might have guessed by my screams."

He takes my hands in his and grins. "I'm relieved, and I kind of like the idea of being the guy who gave that to you."

"I thought you might."

His smile disappears. "Are we okay?"

"Yes. Why are you so worried?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "It just didn't feel right, me being that way with you … speaking to you like I did. When I did it at the club, it was for a reason …" He hesitates, and I know he's choosing his words. "The others, they enjoyed being spoken to like that, but it wasn't the same with you—you're not the same—and when I woke up and you weren't in bed …" His throat works.

"What, you freaked out?"

The look in his eyes tells me I'm right. "I was worried … you didn't like the side of me you saw last night."

"What, and you thought I'd left you?" I shake my head. "No, Art. I'm still here. Where I'll always be. Even if you were a bastard," I tease.

Once again, my attempt at humour falls flat.

"Do you see how different last night was? Do you see how that doesn't even touch how we are with one another … what we've got?"

It was cool, detached, perfunctory sex in the main. There was no warmth, love, or affection. It was just sex, like he always said it was.

"Yes," I admit. "Thank you for showing me."

He smiles. "You're the best, you know?"

I frown, unsure what he means. "The best what?"

He kisses the tip of my nose. "The best sex, lover, friend … I've ever had. "

My heart swells with unexpected emotion. I kiss him to stop myself from welling up.

"It's the same for me," I say, my voice cracking.

"Don't ask me to show you again."

I nod. "I know it was hard for you. Thank you."

"I don't want to go back to that part of my past anymore."

And as he kisses me languidly, I decide that's fine by me.