Sugar

“He’s been more than generous—”

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “You’re never going to sway me. When I say I don’t like the way you make a living, what I mean is I really fucking hate your job. Really.”

“I swear it’s just business.”

“To you maybe, but not to them. You’re their fantasy. I see how they look at you. I watch them try to touch you. Micah point blank told you.” He turned out his palms. “Maybe a stronger man could handle it, but I can’t. I’m territorial for good reason. My ex left me for my best friend. I swore, the next time I fell in love with someone, I’d make sure she fully belonged to me. All this time I’ve been single because I didn’t see anyone I wanted that much, but then I met you, and I wanted you every second since.”

“You want me?”

“Yes, I fucking want you.”

“Still?”

He hesitated. “I want to know you’re mine and mine alone. I can’t fucking share you, Avery.”

I placed my glass on the table. “How would that work, if I was yours?”

“What do you mean? We’d be in a relationship. No other women and no other men. None. We would be a normal couple.”

“Normal.” I tasted the word, my mind calculating the time needed for student teaching and the money I’d need to rent a new place. “I… I’d have to move.”

“That makes two of us.”

“What?”

“If you think I’m going to pay that fucking asshole rent, you’re crazy. I’ve been looking for a new place for weeks.”

He was leaving? I immediately knew I wouldn’t be able to afford to live wherever he moved. “How far will you be?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple gliding beneath the pale stubble on his throat. “You could come with me.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“You could once you started teaching.”

“That won’t be until September, Noah.”

He smiled. “We can work something out.”

What was he asking, that we move in together? “You mean we would be roommates?”

He met my stare but didn’t answer. “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

I shrank into the chair, my arms folding around the uneasy feeling in my stomach. “Then let’s slow down.”

“Why did you sit over there?”

Confused by his question, I shrugged. “I thought we needed space.”

“I don’t want space. Come back to where you were on my lap.”

I stood then stilled. Who made him boss? “I think we should talk this out—”

“Avery, get your fucking ass over here.”

I moved around the coffee table and stood in front of him. He caught my wrist and tugged me to his lap. This time both my legs draped over his to one side, and he pulled my back to his chest. His palm pressed to my breastbone, his fingers teasing the neckline of my dress.

“We need to get some things out in the open if this is ever going to work.”

My stomach tightened. “What sort of things?”

“I want you to tell me about the first time you took control in sex. How old were you?”

I shifted to face him, but he held me still. “Why do you want to talk about that?”

“Because I do and we’re trying that new honesty thing all the kids are talking about.”

I sighed. “I lost my virginity just before my eighteenth birthday.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, that’s the answer. With sex, I’ve always been the one in control.”

His fingers stilled, then continued drawing circles on my flesh just beside my bra strap. “Who was he?”

“My brother’s friend. Eventually, he was my friend.”

“Why did you break up?”

“We didn’t. He died.”

He let out an audible breath. “I’m sorry. How old were you when he died?”

“Eighteen. I was in Philly when it happened. I didn’t go home for his funeral. Last month was the first time I’d been home in years. I think it’s the first time I actually processed his death.”

“Next time you have to go home, I could go with you.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, but I don’t intend to go back.” And I didn’t want to think about home, so I continued answering his question.

“After Gavin, I tried dating for a split second. It didn’t end well. I assumed everyone had sex the same way. I probably put that guy in therapy. He never called.”

Noah chuckled.

“Then, I decided to do some research. The Internet could be a scary playground. I visited the most otherworldly corners of the World Wide Web until I was able to sort of piece together what I was.”

“What did you think you were?”

I shrugged. “A Domme or a Dominatrix. The label never much mattered, but it helped me meet the right people. I hooked up with this guy Tucker. We met online, and we seemed to be searching for the same thing. We lasted about a year, but we never slept together.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I smiled at his confusion. I’d warned him I wasn’t normal. Neither were my needs.