Emma watched the city slide by outside her window. The tension between her and Ian was palpable; she’d noticed it building throughout the evening every time he touched her. With no resolution, her body felt jittery, as if she’d drunk too much coffee. She kept expecting the tension between them to dissipate. They’d fooled around, they’d had sex, and yet each time she saw him, the electric current between them was switched on anew. Maybe this was what it was like to have real chemistry with someone. They hadn’t talked about the play party at all since Emma had accepted the invitation. She had expected Ian to say no on her behalf, but he’d given the choice to her, and she’d been feeling daring and reckless and beautiful. If Ian didn’t want a relationship with her, at least she could share the intimacy of rope sessions with him. “Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?” Ian turned to her as the train approached Downtown Crossing, his hand barely brushing hers where she was drumming her fingers on the top of the suitcase.
