Sugar

Control was a drug, and I knew the high he spoke of well. My body responded to his words, my breath turning heavy, and my breasts straining against my bra. “That’s a great feeling.”

“I love it.”

“Me, too.”

If I shifted my legs, arousal would gush to my panties, so I remained perfectly still. I swallowed, unsure of what to do or say.

The first time Noah took control, I saw it as a deliberate betrayal. I specifically told him I needed control, and he usurped it.

But after we slept together and came to an understanding, it was easier to switch back and forth. He no longer stole my authority when it was my turn. But I also enjoyed when it was his turn. Sometimes I forgot who was in charge and just let it happen. No matter what, with Noah, it was always good.

He turned my chin to face him. “You’re not saying anything.”

I didn’t know what to say. My head was spinning. It was getting late, and my brain was on overload.

“Whose lipstick is it?”

He rubbed a hand over his lips. “I ran into an employee of mine, and there was a misunderstanding. I straightened it out.”

“Were you on a date with her?” I couldn’t hide the jealousy or accusation in my voice.

“No. But it’s good to know I’m not the only territorial one.”

There was still the matter of the flower. “The rose wasn’t for her?”

“Avery, the rose was for you. If you don’t believe me, check your mail.”

“What?”

He let out a breath. “It was an olive branch. It’s Valentine’s Day. I was just going to leave it by your door, but you happened to be standing there. When I saw what you were wearing, I knew you were spending Valentine’s Day with someone else. Then I saw him.”

I lowered my head. “I’m so ashamed of everything I put you through.”

“We’re working it out.”

“You must have hated seeing him with me tonight.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t hesitate or sugarcoat his feelings. “I pretty much hate his guts, and now that I know he’s trying to start some sort of relationship with you, I want him totally out of your life.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“Anything’s possible—if you want it bad enough.”

I wanted Noah. “Tell me how to have a normal relationship. I’ve never had one. What would our relationship look like?”

He returned his hand to my chest, his fingers stroking over my skin gently. “We’d be totally committed, so we’d eventually live together. It would make sense because I like to cook and you never have any food at your place. Plus, my couch is better for snuggling.”

“Not true.”

“It’s bigger. We can do more on it.”

I rolled my eyes. He was right.

“You’d be a teacher, and I’d get hard every time you dressed for work, especially when you wear your hair in a bun and those little glasses I like.”

“I don’t wear glasses.”

“It’s a new prescription and my fantasy, so stop interrupting.”

I smirked and let him go on.

“You teach at the little private school on 17th Street, and since I pass it on my way to work, I drop you off each morning. You like long showers, so I’m in charge of lunches. Each morning when I drop you off, I hand you a little brown bag with your lunch and a note on the napkin, telling you what I intend to do to you that night. But you never wait until lunch to read it.

“Every day you text me around ten, just to check how my day’s going. You love your job, and your classroom’s real cute. There’s a bulletin board with all the kids’ names on the wall and little Sally with the lisp is your favorite.

“School’s out at three-fifteen, but your day doesn’t end until five. Most days I have to come find you at your desk because you don’t like to leave until your lesson plans are just right.

“We drive home, and I make dinner while you cut out materials for some science project. We always have music playing—in the fall it’s mostly jazz, classics like Louis Armstrong and Etta James. In the winter it’s nothing but Christmas carols, because we’re those annoying people who go all out for the holidays. And in the warmer months, it’s whatever feels right.

“My parents love you, and sometimes I get jealous of how close you and my sister have become. We argue over stupid stuff like who gets the remote or the last slice of pie, but we never really fight. We never take each other for granted, and we made a promise to always be honest with each other, no matter what. Every night we make love and then talk until we fall asleep. And the next day we do it all again.”

His description left me breathless. “Wow.” I wanted everything he described, exactly as he described it.