Page 117 of Brassy Bigwig

And I am deeply, madly in love with him.

* * *

After my self-imposed orgasm, D made love to me on the sofa for what felt like hours. We didn’t talk. All we did was feel. It was healing, cathartic, and one of the best moments of my entire life.

Now that both of us have come down from multiple, mind-blowing orgasms, the elephant in the room has appeared. But right now, it’s the last conversation I feel like having. I don’t want to ruin the moment.

“D?”

“Yes, théa?” He runs the back of his hand over my arm again.

“Tonight was wonderful, but it doesn’t erase what happened. I’m still hurting, but I want to work through it with you.”

We’re completely naked, laying back to front on his sofa. He has me wrapped in his arms, and things feel almost perfect between us again.

Almost.

“I think there’s still several things we need to talk about. I’m not going to go so far as to say this was a mistake, but I would have preferred discussing what happened with you first.”

“I agree with you. I know I fucked up and risked losing you. And I know I’m the luckiest bastard in the world to get another chance.”

“You are,” I chuckle. “But our discussion will have to wait until tomorrow. You’ve thoroughly exhausted me, and I need sleep.”

I try sitting up, but suddenly his arm feels like it weighs about a hundred pounds.

“D… I need to go.”

Reluctantly, he lets me up but grabs my wrist before I have a moment to gather my clothes.

“Come back to the penthouse. You can sleep there,” D suggests.

“I think we both know neither of us will get any sleep if I go back to your penthouse tonight.”

Again, he lets me go but he doesn’t like doing it. His annoyed, displeased stare tells me so.

“Okay, fine. But meet me for lunch tomorrow. We can talk it over then. Please, Chloe.”

I don’t answer him as I pull my clothing back onto my body. Once I’m all dressed, my eyes find his. The pleading look in them that held me hostage against the wall next to the elevator earlier is back.

“Okay,” I tell him, pretending I’m giving in. “I’ll text you in the morning.”

Finally accepting of the plan, D stands and gets dressed as well.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I took a cab.”

I don’t miss his look of annoyance at my choice of transportation.

“I’ll call Ivan. He can take you home. There are a few things I need to finish now that I’m taking tomorrow afternoon off.”

“You don’t need the whole afternoon. It’s just lunch.”

“Chloe, once I make you realize you want me back, I plan on taking you home—to our home, at the penthouse—and we won’t see daylight again for at least three days.”

All I can do is smile.

Because I would love nothing more.

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