Page 11 of Total Shutdown

I shift in my chair, confused at my reaction. Why is admitting I had sex with a guy so damn difficult? I told Kendra about Cameron the day after it happened. I know whatever I tell her goes no further, but somehow, saying that I slept with Sawyer out loud would make the whole thing feel more real.

I lift my eyes to hers, and she sits back in her chair, satisfied that the look on my face is the answer she suspected.

She flicks her hair. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“It was a one-time thing.” My throat feels tight, voice muted.

Ed sets a chopped cheese sandwich down in front of me, and I hurry out a, “Thanks,” before I take the biggest bite I can manage.

As I chew around a chunk entirely too big for my mouth, Kendra studies me, that fucking glint back in her eyes.

“You like him, don’t you?”

I swallow and shake my head. “No. He’s not my type—I swear I’ve told you that before.”

Her eyes narrow. “Based on what evidence? The fact that he’s a nice guy with a cute kid, a successful and driven athlete, or a drop-dead gorgeous guy most women are desperate to date?”

Despite the accuracy of her observations, I scramble for an excuse. The truth is, he is a good-looking guy. Older than what I typically like, but handsome and was at least keen on looking after my needs in bed. Even if he was a six out of ten. I internally snicker at the memory of his reaction to that rating, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Like I said months ago”—I break from my thoughts—“he has baggage, and I don’t do any kind of relationship.”

I drop a pickle onto her plate since I can’t stand them and she’s a total weirdo who can.

I live by a few rules, and getting into anything that could be perceived as serious with a guy with kids is one of them. I’m not okay with crossing a line where children can potentially get hurt or be dragged into a messy situation. I lost my parents, just like Ezra lost his mom, and he doesn’t need any more potential complications. My gut feeling about Sawyer hasn’t changed—I can tell he’s a guy who doesn’t do no-strings easily, and that’s the exact opposite of my type. Even if, physically, he pushes all my buttons. And that’s why I can never go back there—or more specifically, to his bed—again.

Kendra bites the end of the pickle, waving it around like it’s some kind of prop supporting her argument. “Who’s to say he wants anything serious anyway? I know when Jack and I started fooling around, it was initially for fun. Jenna kept saying it would be a good friends-with-benefits type of arrangement.”

Jenna is the goalkeeper for the New York Storm and one of Kendra’s closest friends. I like her. She occasionally comes to hockey games, and the times I’ve gone, she’s been there.

“The only reason why your situation worked out with Jack was because, deep down, you both wanted more. In this instance, I do not.” I take a sip of barely warm coffee. “I can just about hold down a job—never mind a relationship or a fuck-buddy arrangement.” I scrunch up my nose. “Plus…” I stress the word and bite my bottom lip. “I didn’t feel a spark,” I lie, knowing I definitely felt something unique between us. I lower my voice and lean forward. “Like, I came and everything, and he was well equipped, but it was kind of boring.” The second part of my statement is more truthful, but I still feel shitty for saying it.

Kendra fights to keep the coffee she just sipped from spraying. She coughs down the last of her mouthful. “And what is it you want exactly? Chains and whips?”

I flush.Again.

“Oh my God,”she half gasps. “You do, don’t you?! How did I not know you were into kinky shit?”

I gaze around the packed café. “Speak up a little, Babe. I don’t think Dave at table four quite heard you.”

She drops her shoulders. “Tell me. I need to know.”

There are only two people who know my taste when it comes to the bedroom: Mike, my douchebag ex, and a guy I had a drunken fling with one weekend in Las Vegas—and I doubt he even remembers my name since I can’t recall his, but he was hot. Every part of my life I keep private, and my sensory-play kink is definitely one of them.

I flick my eyes up to Kendra as she watches me intently.

I take a deep breath. This isnothow I imagined my lunch break going down. “I guess you could describe me as a sensory seeker in bed.”

Kendra quirks an interested brow.

“Orgasms are so much better when all five of our senses are heightened. Well, they are for me anyway.” I bite on the pad of my thumb. “I’ve been known to come from just a guy’s tongue teasing my neck. Then there’s ice and hot wax play.” I take a sip of now-cold coffee.

“So, like, running ice over your body?” Kendra asks.

I nod once. “Yeah, and then you can get into the harder stuff, like spanking, et cetera.”

She runs her tongue across her bottom lip. “And that’s not something you got with Sawyer?”

I balk. “Are you kidding me? He’s not interested in that kind of thing. The second he switched to missionary, I knew I was just seeing it through to the end.”

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