Stomach tight, I stand and wait. I said too much. I played the feelings card, but I’m not picking up the deck, not yet. As he told Twigs, this is the hand life dealt us, and now we both have to deal with it. Taking a deep breath, I search for strength but find none down at the floor. I want him to sweep me off my feet and carry me into his bedroom. I want him to fuck me. God, how I want that, but I don’t want it to end there. I want more. If I surrender and have sex with him, game over. Sex comes easily to him. But I don’t want him satisfied. I want to touch him in another way, one that’ll leave him wanting more, too. “Now,” I swallow hard, ready to confront the damaged man before me, “let’s get you out of this wet thing.” I grab the bottom of his shirt with trembling fingers and start to tug it up. Jaw clenched, his cryptic eyes hold mine. But his arms lift and he allows me to pull the damp material from his body. “There,”
